The Experiment
by Haleine Delail
Summary: Martha Jones will do just about anything for the Doctor. This includes agreeing to participate in an experiment, even if the Doctor is intentionally keeping the experiment's protocol and objectives to himself. The result is a probative journey that really will surprise both parties!
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we go again. New madness begins.**

**This is a story in three parts... or if you will, a play in three acts. It's hard to explain why I chose this format, rather than the usual storytelling style. I suppose partly just because it's experimental and weird, but once you get going, you might see why the normal third-person narrative wouldn't have worked too well. Or at least, would have seemed superfluous somehow. Like I said, hard to explain. And while we're on the subject, I do know _some_ of the conventions of script-writing, but not all, so English-majors at ease! ;-)**

**It is based on something I've seen popping up on the internet and on TV lately, which I have found extremely intriguing, and have had the inexplicable urge to pursue, though not necessarily for myself. You may recognize where's it's going! Its DNA is 50% fangirl fodder and 50% _My Dinner With Andre. _I honestly have no idea how it will be received, and at the very least, I hope you find it _interesting_. **

**And it should go without saying: if you are reading, please also review! (Play fair!) :-D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**THE EXPERIMENT**

_Dramatis Personae:_

_The Doctor - _a "Time Lord" from the planet Gallifrey, aged 903, appears perhaps 35. The last of his kind, travelling through space and time in a blue police box known as the TARDIS. Rather unconventionally handsome, charismatic, brilliant, a bit absurd, occasionally broody, possessed of a formidable dark side.

_Martha Jones_ \- a human from the planet Earth, the isle of Great Britain, aged 25. A medical student, having agreed to travel with the Doctor for the lifestyle of adventure, and because of amorous feelings toward the man himself. Attractive, athletic, intelligent, intuitive, sensitive and independent.

* * *

ACT I

_(MARTHA sits atop the seat in the TARDIS console room, staring at a computer screen. THE DOCTOR_ _appears in the doorway between the console room, and the hallway leading to the rest of the vessel. He carries in his hand a thin packet of papers.)_

DOCTOR: Oi, fancy doing an experiment?

MARTHA: Don't you want me to continue watching for asteroid debris?

DOCTOR: What? Oh, no, we passed through the Grefeldian Cloud half an hour ago.

MARTHA: Lovely. Thanks for telling me.

DOCTOR: Sorry. Lost track of time - go figure. So, experiment?

MARTHA: _(Hopping off the stool,)_ Sure. How could I refuse? What kind of experiment?

DOCTOR: Oh, well, if I told you that, it wouldn't be sporting. Come on. _(He disappears down the corridor.)_

* * *

_(MARTHA follows THE DOCTOR into the kitchen. He pulls a chair out for her. She takes the seat, and allows him to push in the chair behind her. He then goes to the kitchen counter and retrieves a tray with a teapot and two mugs.)_

DOCTOR: Cup of tea?

MARTHA: Er, okay, thanks.

_(He pours them each a cup before sitting down across from her. He pulls the thin bundle of papers from his jacket and places it on the table.)_

DOCTOR: So, for asking, I'll take odds, you take evens, but we both answer them all.

MARTHA: Excuse me?

DOCTOR: _(Leaning over to look at the papers.) _Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

MARTHA: _(Glancing at the paper herself, then back at the Doctor with wide eyes)_ Am I supposed to answer that?

DOCTOR: Yeah.

MARTHA: Why?

DOCTOR: I told you - it's an experiment.

MARTHA: _(Frowns sceptically). _All right, erm... I suppose... Shakespeare.

DOCTOR: Aw, come on! That's dead predictable!

MARTHA: No it's not. Maybe for someone else, but I wouldn't have said that before we met him - I might have said Hippocrates or Marie Curie. But now that I've scratched the surface of the real Shakespeare... I feel like I want to know more. Is that an acceptable answer?

DOCTOR: Sure. Did you fancy him?

MARTHA: _(Pulling a face.)_ Oddly, no. I think it's to do with the time period and the hygiene. But that didn't stop me from being fascinated.

DOCTOR: Me, I'd like to have Adolf Hitler as a dinner guest.

MARTHA: What, so you could serve him up as the entrée?

DOCTOR: Not at all. I'd want to know if he's a fixed point.

MARTHA: A fixed point? Like you were telling me, with the ascent of Constantine, and the Oracle of Kandromelios?

DOCTOR: Yeah! Hitler might be one. When people are discussing the consequences of time travel, even when it's just hypothetical, two things come up. One, stepping on a butterfly, and two, killing Adolf Hitler in his crib.

MARTHA: That is true.

DOCTOR: I mean, it goes without saying that doing such a thing would be traumatic to the course of human events post-World War I, and that it would not do anything to halt despotic or bigoted behaviours on Earth by any means. And by most accounts, a holocaust of quasi-marginalised Europeans was due for a reappearance anyhow...

MARTHA: That goes without saying?

DOCTOR: Oh, yes! But the big, flaming, unanswered question is: is there a reason why everyone is so fixated on Hitler, as a pivotal thing, that could possibly change the world for the better? I mean, for a Time Lord to keep grinding on it is one thing, but it's such a common thing for humans to discuss! Wouldn't you want to know, if you were me?

MARTHA: You mean you don't know whether he's a fixed point?

DOCTOR: Not as such. I often wonder whether, if I were in the presence of the man himself, I would know. I reckon I would, one way or the other.

MARTHA: How would you sit through dinner with him, given that he was... well, you know, a raving lunatic?

DOCTOR: Well, fight fire with fire, of course.

MARTHA: So, by acting like a raving lunatic.

DOCTOR: Yep.

MARTHA: What would you serve him for dinner?

DOCTOR: Haggis.

MARTHA: _(Laughs)_ Why is that?

DOCTOR: He was a vegetarian, and frightened of gore.

MARTHA: What? He's one of the most violent men in human history, how could that be?

DOCTOR: Actually, as far as history knows, Hitler never committed any act of violence with his own hands.

MARTHA: _(Frowning)_ I'm not sure how to feel about that.

DOCTOR: Nor am I. Who says we have to feel any way about it? Next question.

MARTHA: _(After a pause)_ Oh, shall I ask it?

DOCTOR: If you would, please.

MARTHA: _(Consults the papers) _Would you like to be famous? In what way?

DOCTOR: _(Smirking)_ Nah, I don't like to call attention to myself.

MARTHA: Oh, right. Hello, I'm Martha Jones, I don't believe we've met. And you are...?

DOCTOR: Well, I suppose... I don't have a choice in the matter, do I? It's too late - I've already made a spectacle of myself for better or for worse.

MARTHA: Yep. All across the cosmos. The Oncoming Storm!

DOCTOR: That's me - the damage is done. What about you?

MARTHA: Me? No, I don't think I'd want to be famous. It's too much hassle. I'm Miss Independent.

DOCTOR: You are that.

MARTHA: It seems like I'd spend so much time trying to hide, so I could go to the shops on my own... what would be the point? Shouldn't I just have remained anonymous?

DOCTOR: Very good point. What would you be famous for?

MARTHA: _(Thinks.) _I have no real marketable, entertainment skills, so... yep, it would have to be porn.

DOCTOR: _(Laughs.)_ Brilliant! Next question? _(Consulting the papers)_ Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say, and why?

MARTHA: I do, occasionally. I guess if it's a really important call, I don't want to risk meandering or repeating myself, coming off as daft.

DOCTOR: What constitutes "an important call?"

MARTHA: I dunno - a call to a professor or cooperating physician. Anything to do with business rather than pleasure. Unless... well, that's not exactly true is it?

DOCTOR: _(With a smirk.)_ What isn't?

MARTHA: The bit about business versus pleasure. Sometimes when there's pleasure involved...

DOCTOR: Yes?

MARTHA: You know! If you fancy someone, and you ring them, you don't want to sound like a doddering moron!

DOCTOR: I wouldn't know. I almost always come off like a doddering moron, whether I rehearse or not.

MARTHA: So you do rehearse?

DOCTOR: Please, Martha Jones, you know me better than that! You know I'm just making stuff up as I go! On the phone, in life, in situations that require a lot more bloody organisation than I'm willing to lend...

MARTHA: Oh, I'm sorry. What was I thinking?

DOCTOR: Honestly!

MARTHA: Okay. _(Consults papers) _What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?

DOCTOR: _(Looks off into the distance for a long while, in silence.)_

MARTHA: Sorry, would you prefer not to answer?

DOCTOR: The perfect day... was the day I got to say, "Just this once, everyone lives."

MARTHA: _(Surprised.)_ Oh! Wow.

DOCTOR: A few years back, I got tossed into a conflict like always... World War II, gas masks, a little boy with a big problem and a whole lot of people who looked to be lost. And, what else can I tell you? Everyone lived! No-one ended up dead. It was perhaps the best day of my life since the war, and perfection for me, being who I am...

MARTHA: _(After a pause.)_ It means saving everyone, losing no-one.

DOCTOR: It does. I don't know if I'll know that kind of "perfection" ever again. So many events would have to fall into place, so many questions would need answering in the epitome of a timely manner... a neat little bow... _(Shakes off the memory.)_ You?

MARTHA: _(Looking down into her lap.)_ I dunno. I suppose... any day in which I get everything I want, and I don't have to suffer for it.

DOCTOR: Wait a mo'. When have you ever had to suffer for the things you want? Didn't you grow up knowing you could have or do anything? Aren't you the sort that just goes out and _gets _it? Didn't you just tell me you're Miss Independent?

MARTHA: It doesn't always work that way, Doctor. It's not working that way now. Next question.

DOCTOR: Did I say something wrong?

MARTHA: No, it's fine. Let's just move on, if we're going to. Please.

DOCTOR: _(Scowling.)_ Okay. When did you last sing to yourself? When did you last sing to someone else? Oh, wait, I know the answer to this one.

MARTHA: You do?

DOCTOR: I heard you singing in the shower this morning!

MARTHA: You heard that? Oh, God!

DOCTOR: Yes, I heard it - I loved it! You sang "Smooth," by Santana and Rob Thomas. _(Sings.)_ "Well, it's a hot one / Like seven inches from the midday sun..."

MARTHA: Oh no! Why didn't you say something?

DOCTOR: What do you want me to do? I could walk in on you in the shower and say, "Hey, Martha, that's not the right key!"

MARTHA: No, but...

DOCTOR: I could pull up a chair, but I think that might actually prove a bit on the awkward side.

MARTHA: _(Laughs with embarrassment.)_

DOCTOR: I don't know what you're worried about. You're a fine singer.

MARTHA: You're missing the point!

DOCTOR: No, I'm not. But, in any case, the answer to both questions is: this morning. You thought you were singing to yourself, but you were also singing to me!

MARTHA: Ugh, just kill me now.

DOCTOR: For my part, I treated myself to a rendition of "It's Raining Men," sometime last week, while I was doing the dishes, and you were sleeping off that Aeodian Draught from the pub on Exolgerac 5.

MARTHA: "It's Raining Men?"

DOCTOR: Well, it got stuck in my head.

MARTHA: Any particular reason, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Well, no. Although, I have seen it literally rain men before. And I'm not talking about Dustin Hoffman look-alikes. But singing to someone else is another matter. Oh, I know! I sang "I Could Have Danced All Night" to Rose and Mickey and some robots. About a year and a half ago. I was good, too, though sadly, it was just a ruse.

MARTHA: A singing ruse?

DOCTOR: Yes, I wanted the clockwork men to think I was sloshed, and possibly flying on a Versailles-flavoured sex hangover.

MARTHA: What? Were you?

DOCTOR: Of course not. It takes me days to get truly sloshed - eventually I just get bored. And sex doesn't give me a hangover. Does it give you one?

MARTHA: Erm... okay, I have to move on, before my head explodes. (_Consults papers.) _If you were able to live to the age of ninety and retain either the mind or body of a thirty-year-old, which would you want?

DOCTOR: Well, that's not a fair question. I've been looking at ninety in the rearview mirror for over eight centuries.

MARTHA: And you more or less do have both the body and mind of a thirty-year-old. At least the sharp-edge of the mind of a thirty-year-old.

DOCTOR: But there have been times when I have not had the rest, from the neck-down, that is. _(Pauses for thought.) _This is a hard question to answer because my brain doesn't change much, apart from maturing and getting packed full of more and more crap. I don't really get senile and my mental acuity is not subject to natural entropy.

MARTHA: Must be nice.

DOCTOR: It is, and it isn't. I will say, though, having a younger body is quite advantageous.

MARTHA: I'll bet.

DOCTOR: Well, you know... I can run.

MARTHA: Right. Run.

DOCTOR: Well, in my line of work, if I can't run, I get captured and imprisoned and killed and all sorts of other unpleasantness.

MARTHA: Me, I'd want to keep the body of a thirty-year-old. I'd rather, say, have Alzheimer's and still be able to run a marathon, than be trapped inside a deteriorating body, and be totally aware of the state of things. Being trapped in my own body... it would be like being buried alive.

DOCTOR: I had never thought about that before. I suppose because the prospect of growing old and senile and having my body slow down significantly hasn't occurred to me in a lot of years. It's not that it doesn't, or hasn't, happened, it's just, aging doesn't carry the same implications for me as it does for you. _(A pause, a shift.) _Ready for the next question?

MARTHA: _(Nods.)_

DOCTOR: _(Consults papers.) _Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

MARTHA: Not specifically, but I'd say it's fifty-fifty between, in bed surrounded by grandchildren when I'm a hundred-and-two, and sometime in the next few months in a hail of laser blasts and jostling time machines.

DOCTOR: You know I would never let that happen.

MARTHA: I know you would try your best. But it's a funny old life, this.

DOCTOR: _(Solemn.) _Martha, I'm...

MARTHA: Stop it. You know if I wanted security I would have stayed on Earth.

DOCTOR: _(Frowns deeply.) _Don't you trust me?

MARTHA: I hate when you ask me that. It's not about trust. It's about the odds.

DOCTOR: So you're saying, life with me is a gamble?

MARTHA: Isn't it?

DOCTOR: _(Stares at her uneasily.)_ I don't know if I like that take on it.

MARTHA: Come on, now Doctor. You know it as well as I do. And I'm fine with it - look at me! If I didn't love it, I wouldn't be here. Now, come on - secret hunch about your death?

DOCTOR: _(Reluctant.) _Which one, my next one, or the final one?

MARTHA: I don't know - why are you asking me? I didn't write the questions.

DOCTOR: Well, I don't know why, but I feel as though my next death will be to do with a brick. Whether I hit my head on it or get hit with it, I do not know.

MARTHA: A brick?

DOCTOR: Yeah, a brick. Maybe a significant brick.

MARTHA: How could a brick be significant?

DOCTOR: Well, maybe it's the last brick added to the Parthenon. And then it falls on me and puts my lights out, and thus a new Doctor is born.

MARTHA: This is your hunch? It is surprisingly specific.

DOCTOR: No, the brick is my hunch, the Parthenon is just an example.

MARTHA: Now there is a sentence that not everyone gets to say... like, ever.

DOCTOR: Yeah, I say a lot of stuff that other people don't say. I thought that was why you liked me.

MARTHA: _(Smiles.)_ It is, partly.

DOCTOR: That, and the uneven eyebrows.

MARTHA: Well, yeah, but that's just what clinches it. _(Consults paper.)_ Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

DOCTOR: My partner being you?

MARTHA: I suppose so.

DOCTOR: Well... _(Contemplates.)_ We are both uncommonly clever for our species.

MARTHA: Again, not something you hear every day.

DOCTOR: We both have a lust for adventure. And we are both are inexplicably gorgeous.

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: Well, you are inexplicably gorgeous. My gorgeousness is entirely explicable. _(Big goofy grin.)_

MARTHA: Oh. Well. Th-thanks...

DOCTOR: Don't mention it. Your turn. Three things we have in common.

MARTHA: _(Shakes it off._) Oh, okay. Erm, well... _(Stares at him intently.)_ We both sort of wear our emotions on our sleeve, whether we mean to discuss or share them, or not.

DOCTOR: Very true.

MARTHA: Neither one of us can stand to watch anyone suffer.

DOCTOR: Very, very true.

MARTHA: And we are both in the dark, here.

DOCTOR: Beg pardon?

MARTHA: I'm in the dark because I don't know what the hell this little interview is all about, and you're in the dark because, frankly, I'm holding back. And you don't know exactly what I would like to say to you. I reckon if either of us knew the truth, it would change the game entirely.

DOCTOR: _(Stares back at her, searching.)_ I reckon you're right.

MARTHA: I'll spill, if you will.

DOCTOR: I can't, or the experiment won't work.

MARTHA: Right. So much for emotions on our sleeves, then. Let's just move on.

DOCTOR: _(Consults paper, with one eye on her.) _For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

MARTHA: For you.

DOCTOR: Seriously? All... out on your sleeve like that? Not even going to take a moment to think about that one?

MARTHA: What's to think about? What have I got that's more unique and amazing than my friendship with you?

DOCTOR: Have you looked in the mirror lately?

MARTHA: Thanks, but I stand by my assertion.

DOCTOR: Wow.

MARTHA: Don't 'wow' me. You know it's true. But what do you feel most grateful for? And don't feel obligated to...

DOCTOR: No, I know. I guess I feel most grateful for... well, companionship in general. Especially since the war.

MARTHA: That's nice.

DOCTOR: I'm grateful for you, and Rose, and my friend Jack. For Mickey and Sarah-Jane and Donna...

MARTHA: I don't recognise some of those names.

DOCTOR: _(Sombre.) _They're just people who have been nice enough to put up with me when I've been at my worst, over the past couple of years. And they weren't just people, either. They - you - have all been the best kind of people. The bravest and the warmest, and the kind that would tell me off when I need it. And I have needed it, believe you me.

MARTHA: You're worth putting up with, Doctor.

DOCTOR: Are you sure?

MARTHA: Most of the time.

DOCTOR: I killed an entire cell of Racnoss infants at the centre of the Earth, and drained the Thames to do it. I dumped off one of my companions in the completely wrong city. One of them, I abandoned on a space station. One of them... well, I guess you might say I stole his girlfriend.

MARTHA: What exactly are you trying to convince me of?

DOCTOR: Martha, I'm a huge pain in the arse.

MARTHA: Oh, I know that much. But you didn't mention the lives you saved during that time, nor the joy you brought, the spirits you buoyed or the introspection you encouraged. No-one is perfect. And it seems to me, after knowing you for a while, the more amazing the man, the more imperfect the imperfections. Yeah?

DOCTOR: Yeah._ (Smiles, in lieu of thanks.)_ Next question?

MARTHA: _(Consults papers.) _If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

DOCTOR: Oh, blimey.

MARTHA: That's a hard one... for anyone.

DOCTOR: Yeah. Well, I wasn't a very happy child, but I don't know how I could have changed that. No child on Gallifrey is what you would call 'happy.' There's too much regimentation, too many expectations, too much to learn, too much bloody eternity to look into. Some children are wired for that, and grow up to be adults who thrive as Time Lords. I was not one of those children. I guess I could say that I wish I had been more that kind of kid, that I had been more rigidly instructed to be on top of my studies so I could have enjoyed that time of life more, fit in better, passed my flight exams rather than fail them... but do I really wish that? I don't know. Maybe. I would have died in the Time War with the rest of them... maybe that would have been a good thing.

MARTHA: What are you saying? No, it would not have been a good thing!

DOCTOR: You don't understand, Martha.

MARTHA: You're right, I don't understand anything about your past. But what I do understand is that the universe can't live without you, in the present.

DOCTOR: It lived before me.

MARTHA: All right, how about just the Earth? How many times would we have been overtaken by Daleks or Cybermen without your intervention?

DOCTOR: Counting Canary Wharf? Twenty-eight. Or twenty-nine, depending on whether you want to count the Daleks and the Cybermen separately.

MARTHA: See?

DOCTOR: _(A faraway look in his eye.)_ I have saved. I have destroyed just as often.

MARTHA: I believe it must always have been for the best.

DOCTOR: You've only known me for a year, Martha. I've been alive and kicking for over nine centuries. How could you know or believe anything about me?

MARTHA: Well, I've hitched my horse to your wagon one way or the other, and I say... we need you.

DOCTOR: _(Whispers.)_ Thanks. I need you, too.

MARTHA: Us, as in humans? The universe at large?

DOCTOR: That too.

MARTHA: _(Stares at him, once again, disarmed and searching.)_

DOCTOR: _(Still rather sombre.) _And, Miss Jones, what would you change about your upbringing?

MARTHA: I suppose, the opposite of what you said. I was fairly strictly regimented - I wish I could have been allowed to live a bit more. I wish I could have been shown that there is more to life than just achieving, achieving, achieving. I didn't really learn that fully until I met you.

DOCTOR: Well, if nothing else, I am quite good at imparting the grey areas of life to those who otherwise think they had it all worked out.

MARTHA: Yes, you are! But that's not a grey area. That's a stark truth!

DOCTOR: _(Consults papers.) _Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

MARTHA: So does that mean you get forty minutes, because you've lived ten times as long as most humans?

DOCTOR: Please, your life is short enough. I'm going to take up another unnecessary thirty-six minutes of it talking about childhood ceremonies and eight bloody centuries fighting Daleks?

MARTHA: Fair enough. Should we set a timer?

DOCTOR: I am a timer.

MARTHA: _(Laughs.)_ Oh, yes, I forgot who I was talking to. Okay, four minutes. Well, I was actually born in Brussels. Bet you didn't know that, did you?

DOCTOR: Indeed I did not.

MARTHA: My father, when he was starting his publishing company, was trying to drum up the support of a Congolese author who had become an outspoken proponent of women's rights in central Africa, which was part of the reason he'd been exiled to Belgium. This guy wouldn't even consider helping my dad until they could meet face-to-face but he couldn't leave the Benelux countries because of some bizarre condition of his transfer of residency, or some such nonsense. So, dad packed up my pregnant mum, and Tish, who was two years old at the time, and went to Brussels, having no idea how long he would be there. As it turned out, the Congolese bloke had some money to spare, and agreed to seed my dad's company, but again, they had to do a lot of the business in Belgium. So my family were obliged to stay for almost three months. Sometime in that window, I was born.

DOCTOR: Very nice. Nineteen... eighty-two-ish?

MARTHA: Yep, in February. We returned to London a couple weeks later, and that's where I grew up. When I was about four, we moved to the Kensington area because mum was pregnant again, and we didn't have enough bedrooms! Plus, suddenly we had money. My brother Leo was born in eighty-six. And as I said, with the exception of Leo, we were fairly strictly regimented; ballet and piano lessons, church, football, and when we got older, I did martial arts and Tish did pageants. Leo didn't have to do dance or learn an instrument, but he did sports and, dad was insistent that he become the next Bobby Fisher. Needless to say, that did not happen.

DOCTOR: It still could.

MARTHA: I'm not holding my breath. Anyway, I was a mediocre dancer and piano-player... my real aptitude, as you may have guessed, was in science. Specifically, biology. I don't know when, exactly, I decided I wanted to be a doctor, I just know that I knew by the time I was fourteen, and I never looked back. _(Crinkles her nose in disgust.) _And you know what? I had this uncle who kept talking about how I was going to be a nurse, and it used to just tie me up in knots. I know that's totally elitist of me, because there is certainly nothing wrong with being a nurse but... I think he was being sexist! And I still have no idea whether it was intentional or not. Was he trying to tell me subtly that he didn't think I could, or should, become a doctor, or did his brain just refuse to process the information? It was just so maddening! I had never really faced much sexism in my life, and I guess I was naïve, but I had thought that men in the modern Western world were totally used to the idea of women doing any and every job. Especially any and every cerebral job, you know? But I was wrong, I guess. I think it gave me a complex. I mean, when we dissected foetal pigs in school, I relished in the fact that while the other girls got all freaked out over pig guts, I was cool as a cucumber. It was a great point of pride to me that I didn't ever gag.

DOCTOR: Did he ever get to see you accepted to med school?

MARTHA: No, he passed away while I was at university. He died from kidney failure. It runs in my mother's side of the family. Along with stubbornness and a shellfish allergy. _(Pause, sigh.) _My grandfather died of it as well, when I was ten. And... I guess since I'm telling the story of my life, I'll reveal this little tidbit: the thing that made me most miss my grandfather was the fact that my grandmother, once she was alone, decided to move to London, and she gave up their cool house in Brighton. Does that make me a terrible person?

DOCTOR: You missed your grandfather because of memories past, experiences that can no longer be shared. What's terrible about that?

MARTHA: We went and stayed with them fairly often... fun times at the beach! I was sad that I wouldn't have that anymore. Also sad that our Pop was gone, but the loss of the beach at our fingertips... blimey, that hurt! But I guess, then, our Gran moved to London and it was just as memorable, in retrospect. That's when she got back into her baking, and taught Tish how to make that chocolate lava cake that gran was hoping would eventually ensnare Tish a husband.

DOCTOR: Because intelligence, a sense of humour and good-looks weren't going to be enough?

MARTHA: Yes, well. The point is that I found it absurd to learn any kind of skill for the sole purpose of roping in a husband, so I wouldn't do it. I mean, it's the twenty-first century! Actually, at the time, it was the late twentieth century, but the point still stands! But then, you can guess the rest of the story. She passed away a few years later as well, and I regretted not spending the time with her. She could teach me the cake, or underwater basket-weaving, or how to build a bomb out of drain cleaner... it wouldn't have mattered, because it wasn't about the cake. It was the time spent that mattered. Tish has never made the cake on her own, but she has a bunch of stories to tell from our Gran. But I wouldn't do it because... I was Miss Independent.

DOCTOR: It's part of being young. Can't see the forest for the trees.

MARTHA: Why was it that Tish could see it, and I couldn't?

DOCTOR: I have no answer for that, Martha. I don't know her well at all...

MARTHA: Is that four minutes?

DOCTOR: Yep, just about. Ready for Tales of Woe and Misery, Abridged?

MARTHA: _(Exaggerated smile.)_ Boy, am I ever!

DOCTOR: Well, I was born on a distant planet that is now no more than chunks of space debris. And that was, what, nine hundred and three years ago...ish? In Earth terms, anyway. And before heading off to the Academy at the age of eight, I think you'd be surprised at what my childhood looked like. My brief - painfully brief - childhood.

MARTHA: How so?

DOCTOR: I don't think it was that much different from a childhood spent on Earth. We learned songs, played games, got tucked in at night. I spent a lot of time at this farm... we played with the animals. We did make-believe, just like you probably did. We even had this bicycle-like thing on which we could amble about. Took some skill, but it was good fun, if you could get on a hill and not, you know, crash and die. It was considered very taboo for a child to regenerate.

MARTHA: Taboo?

DOCTOR: Yes. But, then there were years spent at the Academy in learning to be all austere and Time Lordy. It is an eighty-year course that culminates in a set of exams, most of which, as you know, I failed. The whole Austere Time Lord thing was never quite for me, so eventually I stole a TARDIS. You are sitting within her strange, changeable walls at this very moment.

MARTHA: You stole the TARDIS?

DOCTOR: Yep. Well, first I tried the Austere Time Lord thing, but it wasn't any fun without the flying. So to combat that particular brand of boredom, I got married and had some children and grandchildren, all of whom, I'm glad to say, were much better students than I was. Although, who wound up the better for it... _(Eyes are distant for a moment, eventually he clears his throat and returns to the present.) _Anyway, parenthood is a surprisingly short gig on Gallifrey, so sooner than I would have liked, life got really boring again. When everyone was grown, I grabbed one of my granddaughters and snuck into a TARDIS to take it for a spin. I kind of never went back. I'm not being exactly literal, of course. I did go back several times, but I kept winding up either on trial somehow, or with some kind of unwanted exaltation. I think the Time Lords had a love-hate relationship with me. For a while, I thought I might go back and settle down again... maybe I thought that I could get this wanderlust out of my system, but you can see how that turned out. Eventually, my body just exhausted itself and died, so I regenerated. After that, going home to stay just seemed sort of... I don't know. It just didn't sit well with me.

MARTHA: I love how you just gloss over the fact that you died and regenerated. Like it's the most normal thing in the world!

DOCTOR: Well, it is normal for me! Part of who I am, part of my life's story. It's happened to me nine times. Well... give or take.

MARTHA: What do you mean, give or take? Are there deaths that you MAY have had? Nine deaths, and some change?

DOCTOR: Sort of.

MARTHA: Do I want to know what that means?

DOCTOR: _(Sombre again.) _I don't think so, Martha. _(Perks up.) _Anyway, it's a conversation for another day.

MARTHA: Okay, I'll take your word. But I'll hold you to it. Continue, please.

DOCTOR: Nine times. You know that's no small number.

MARTHA: I know I couldn't have endured it!

DOCTOR: The first death was more or less natural. But since then... I've been shot, I've fallen from a great height, I took a poison with no antidote... once, was doused with radiation by a giant spider...

MARTHA: _(With a smile.) _You know, if you're going to start making stuff up, then I'm just going to leave.

DOCTOR: I wish I were making it up - would make things a damn sight easier. Anyway, at some point, my granddaughter left to get married, and... I guess I've been, as you put it, picking up strays ever since. People I like, people I love, people who like and love me, and want to stay, for whatever reason. Though I did have one friend who was mightily reluctant to travel in the TARDIS for quite some time. I kept promising to take her home, but, you know, when I was younger, I really was bloody awful at aiming this thing. I'd be lucky if I wound up on the right continent, right planet, even, in the vicinity of the right century!

MARTHA: Oh, lovely. Trying to get home to London, 2007, and you'd drop them in, say, Bombay, in Victorian times? Or Mars, in the year 2107?

DOCTOR: Stranger things have happened, I'm afraid... and that's about four minutes.

MARTHA: Really?

DOCTOR: Well, three and three-quarters, but it doesn't seem practical to start a new sentence when I only have fifteen seconds to go.

MARTHA: Avoiding something? _(With a twinkle in her eye.)_

DOCTOR: Of course. Also, I've just had a really long life.

MARTHA: So, next question, then: _(Consults the papers.) _If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

DOCTOR: Oh, now, that_..._ that is difficult. _(Thinks about it for an almost uncomfortably long time.)_

MARTHA: We could change the question, if you want.

DOCTOR: To what?

MARTHA: Well, maybe it could be... if you could wake up tomorrow, with someone you know having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

DOCTOR: That's intriguing, but... I don't want to change people. If I did, it would be hard for me to travel with them, wouldn't you say?

MARTHA: Yeah. _(Averting her eyes.)_

DOCTOR: Could it be, "If you could wake up tomorrow, having LOST one quality or ability, what would it be?"

MARTHA: Why not? I suppose, in your case, there are more things you can do, than can't.

DOCTOR: I would lose the ability to remember.

MARTHA: Really? All things?

DOCTOR: Maybe I would put a statute of limitations on memory... like two hundred years, and then the system purges, reboots, resets to factory-settings. Sure, I may have to learn to fly the TARDIS again, but that might be fun. And it would save me from having to... _(Now averting his eyes as well, clears his throat, and gestures for her to go ahead and speak.) _

MARTHA: Are you sure you wouldn't like to finish your sentence? I mean, I'm assuming that one of the objectives of this "experiment" is to probe increasingly more deeply. To what end, I'm not sure... but it seems like we should play the game properly, as long as we're here.

DOCTOR: The question was about gaining, or in my case, losing, an ability. I answered the question.

MARTHA: _(Stiff.) _Hard to argue with that.

DOCTOR: So... you?

MARTHA: Well, it's very hard for me to think of anything that wouldn't be just as much a curse as a blessing.

DOCTOR: And therein lies the paradox of power.

MARTHA: Very eloquently put, Doctor.

DOCTOR: Thank you.

MARTHA: I guess... I'd like to be able to keep up with you.

DOCTOR: What?

MARTHA: You know, intellectually. I mean, I don't need to be a Time Lord - that's a whole load of drama I just don't need. But the science, the technology, the thinking ten million miles per minute, the time and space in your brain? It might be nice to be able to share that with you.

DOCTOR: Share it with me?

MARTHA: Yes. To keep up, but also experience those things alongside you, rather than behind you. Maybe even take some of the heat off you.

DOCTOR: _(Softly.) _Wow, Martha.

MARTHA: And like I said, I know it's just as much a curse as a blessing. I know the lot of a Time Lord couldn't be an easy one, and so much of that is the burden of being faster and cleverer than pretty much anyone else in existence. But like it or not, there's a gulf between us, and there always will be, simply because you're you. And as someone who spends a lot of time with you, and spends a lot of time feeling lost, tagging along... adrift...

DOCTOR: Adrift?

MARTHA: ...it would be lovely to be on your level.

DOCTOR: Do I make you feel adrift?

MARTHA: Sometimes.

DOCTOR: Because I'm clever?

MARTHA: Yes, sometimes, but that part is not your fault.

DOCTOR: That part? Then, what part is my fault?

MARTHA: Never mind, I didn't mean... I let something slip out. Let's just drop it.

DOCTOR: I'll ask you what you asked me. Are you sure you want to drop it? Doesn't it seem like the objective is to go further?

MARTHA: No, it's fine. I said way too much anyway.

DOCTOR: About what?

MARTHA: About sharing, and there being a gulf, and... ugh, I'm doing it again. Next question?

DOCTOR: That's the end of the first set. Fancy a freshening-up of our tea before we continue?

MARTHA: God, yes.

_(THE DOCTOR picks up the teapot, and walks to the kitchen.)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2 of 3. We left off with Martha rather sullenly feeling she has said too much, and relishing in the opportunity to take a break from this little exercise.**

**And so we continue the mysterious weirdness. And we inch closer to the objective... **

**Please review, and let me know what's on your mind! (As it pertains to this story, of course. ;-) )**

* * *

ACT II

_(THE DOCTOR pours fresh, steaming tea into both cups, and MARTHA takes a sip. She holds onto her cup as if it could provide security.)_

DOCTOR: Ready to start again?

MARTHA: Sure.

DOCTOR: Are you sure?

MARTHA: _(Shrugs.)_

DOCTOR: Have I upset you?

MARTHA: Not any more than usual.

DOCTOR: What does that mean?

MARTHA: Nothing. Just ask the next question. It's your turn, isn't it? Number thirteen - odd?

DOCTOR: (_Sits back in his chair and crosses his arms.)_ You know, if you're going to be cryptic like that, and never tell me what it means, then we might as well just toss this whole thing to the rubbish bin right now.

MARTHA: _(Sits back and crosses her own arms.) _So the experiment is about honesty?

DOCTOR: Somewhat.

MARTHA: Well, the way I see it, you're being a bit cryptic yourself.

DOCTOR: _(Contemplates her for a few moments.)_ The experiment is about... relationships. It's about what happens when two people discuss these questions.

MARTHA: Did you design the experiment?

DOCTOR: No.

MARTHA: So you're testing out someone else's hypothesis.

DOCTOR: Exactly. Though I've added my own little spin to the protocol.

MARTHA: Not going to tell me the hypothesis, are you?

DOCTOR: _(Uncrosses arms, leans forward a bit.) _If not knowing is truly upsetting you, then I'll tell you. But I'm almost certain it will ruin the experiment.

MARTHA: _(Broods.)_

DOCTOR: Can't you just trust me?

MARTHA: _(Groans.)_ I still hate it when you ask me that. Fine, next question. Prat.

DOCTOR: _(Smirking, consults papers.)_ If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

MARTHA: _(Laughs. Starts out slow, but then begins to laugh harder.)_

DOCTOR: What?

MARTHA: This is the worst question yet!

DOCTOR: Why?

MARTHA: Well, it's not a bad question. Actually it's a very good question, it's just bad for me. Especially if you want honesty, and you want me to stop being cryptic.

DOCTOR: Well? Can you be honest with me?

MARTHA: Well, Doctor, we have a time machine - or rather, you do, and I'm in it with you. It's funny that I should need a crystal ball. What I want to know is not something your time machine can tell me, so it is actually a very apt question.

DOCTOR: _(Folds arms, waits, face impassive.)_

MARTHA: I want to know what will happen to you and me. I suppose I'd like to know... will we still be friends when all is said and done?

DOCTOR: Why wouldn't we be?

MARTHA: I don't know. Things happen.

DOCTOR: What are you afraid will happen, Martha?

MARTHA: If I knew, I wouldn't need the crystal ball, now would I?

DOCTOR: I'm serious - do you know something I don't?

MARTHA: No, Doctor. I really don't. I just get afraid sometimes, the way you do when you... care about someone. Or something, for that matter. You get afraid that it's all going to come crashing down because that's the way life is. Okay?

DOCTOR: I guess.

MARTHA: So what would you want to know?

DOCTOR: I'd want to know about loneliness.

MARTHA: What about it?

DOCTOR: Just... everything. As it pertains to me, that is. Will I ever be totally free of it? How will it ultimately affect me? Will I ever learn to embrace it? And are there really as many different levels of it as I think there are, and will I just go deeper? Or will I get to come up a level? Will I constantly oscillate between levels? Will a regeneration or two make things different for me? Is travelling making it worse? Is travelling with a companion just like sticking my finger in a leaky hole, when the whole dam is about to break?

MARTHA: I'm sorry, Doctor. I wish I could give you those answers myself.

DOCTOR: No-one could. I've never known anyone who could. No single entity could be all things to me... or to anyone.

MARTHA: It wouldn't stop us from trying, those of us who - how did you put it? Like you, love you, want to stay, for whatever reason.

DOCTOR: I know, which is brilliant. And which is why, as I said earlier, I am most thankful for companionship in general. The minute you lot stop trying, it means I've stopped trying, which means I might as well... I don't know. _(Clears throat.)_ Anyway, nevertheless, it might be nice to know more about the nature of loneliness in my life to come. Maybe there would be less emotional fallout, ultimately, if I knew what to expect. Sometimes I wonder if I should just steer clear of all people.

MARTHA: No, never.

DOCTOR: _(Nodding vigourously, not making eye-contact.) _Good. Keep telling me that, okay? I need to hear it sometimes.

MARTHA: _(Nods worriedly, reaches across briefly to touch his hand. Then consults papers.)_ Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it? Oh, fantastic.

DOCTOR: This is a loaded question.

MARTHA: Tell me about it.

DOCTOR: There are at least a thousand things that I've thought about going back and fixing. Or going back to witness, to see what went wrong, to see if anything could be done, down the line. Why haven't I done it? Because it's... well, wrong. It crosses my own timeline, flouts the laws of my people, and it risks paradox.

MARTHA: Can you give me an example, in the spirit of honesty?

DOCTOR: Just one? _(Pauses uncomfortably.) _Well, you want honesty, so... the biggest one is the day my planet was destroyed. The day I destroyed it.

MARTHA: You did?

DOCTOR: I had to. At least... I think I had to. I thought I had to, in the moment. You don't know how many times I've wondered... was I thinking clearly, or was I just war-weary? Was there something... just something else? Especially since the bloody Daleks came back kicking, but the Time Lords have stayed gone.

MARTHA: Is it not a fixed point?

DOCTOR: No. It was a choice I made. _(Twists face in contemplation.)_ But you know, it's weird. I know it's impossible, since the events are time-locked, but I've always had this weird sense that I may have another shot at it someday.

MARTHA: Well, that's something, then.

DOCTOR: No, no, it's not, really. It's more like... I don't know. Like, how even people who have no spiritual bent whatsoever say they have a sense that they will see their dead loved ones again. It's just a feeling they get, even though they know, or think, it's illogical. Or, when refugees leave their country, knowing intellectually that there is a point-zero-zero-zero-one per cent chance that things will ever stabilise enough for them to return. Most of them still have the feeling that they'll get to come home someday. It's not really "something," Martha, it's probably just a coping mechanism my brain has devised so that I don't implode.

MARTHA: Well, I say it's still something. It's still hope, of a sort.

DOCTOR: So... what have you been dreaming of doing, and why haven't you?

MARTHA: _(Contemplates uncomfortably for a while.)_ This is going to sound... just stupid. But it has to do with finding love.

DOCTOR: What's stupid about that?

MARTHA: It's like the Shakespeare thing - it's going to be just about everyone's answer.

DOCTOR: Why haven't you done it yet?

MARTHA: The usual. Fear.

DOCTOR: You? Fear? Nah!

MARTHA: _(Smiles reluctantly.)_ This isn't like hanging from a cathedral tower or running from killer laser blasts. There's actually something at stake, here! Finding the courage to love someone properly... it's really hard.

DOCTOR: Yep. I know.

MARTHA: And even if you can find the courage, how do you earn their love in return?

DOCTOR: If I knew that, I'd be a very wealthy man.

MARTHA: Listen, if you ever develop any insights, let me know, yeah?

DOCTOR: _(Laughs. Then realises:)_ Wait, you're serious.

MARTHA: Yeah. I'd like to know what you think on the matter.

DOCTOR: Martha, I'm terrible with relationships.

MARTHA: I know. But still.

DOCTOR: Okay, if you insist, I'll let you know if I have any great epiphanies. Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be Earth-shattering. _(Smirks, consults papers.) _What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

MARTHA: Erm wow. I don't know. I'm young. I'm not finished accomplishing things yet. I hope that I can answer that question definitively in fifty years or so. Or maybe even twenty or thirty.

DOCTOR: Small accomplishments can be great accomplishments.

MARTHA: Well, becoming a doctor, which I haven't done yet... I suppose my greatest accomplishment thus far is coming thus far. Having taken this many steps on the road to accomplishing something. Does that count?

DOCTOR: Oh, yes. I would say my greatest accomplishment is something similar. Just having made it this far.

MARTHA: Not having died on a permanent basis quite yet, that's your greatest accomplishment.

DOCTOR: Yes! You know what my life is like! I'd say managing only to have died temporarily at this point is nothing to sneeze at!

MARTHA: Touché! Your being not-dead has probably saved countless civilisations, so, yeah... I can see that! _(Consults papers.) _What do you value most in a friendship?

DOCTOR: Moments like this.

MARTHA: Like this?

DOCTOR: Just talking. Opening up, learning new things about each other. Even if it's a little awkward sometimes.

MARTHA: Opening up? How often does that even happen with you and your friends?

DOCTOR: Almost never. In fact, maybe never, ever.

MARTHA: Never? Ever?

DOCTOR: Well, I've already said the Time Lords were a stiff bunch. How many feeling-sharing support-groups do you think they had? We were not encouraged to open up to one another. We weren't exactly discouraged from it either, but I think humans in your time have the right idea about that. Sharing is good, open moments amongst friends should be actively sought out. It should be the basis of all good relationships.

MARTHA: So how is it that you've never opened up with another human being?

DOCTOR: Never any time.

MARTHA: Come on, Doctor, seriously? You have literally all the time in the universe if you want it.

DOCTOR: Okay... never any inclination. Or at least not much, historically. The truth is always too complex or too hurtful. The emotional fallout is always too grave.

MARTHA: So why are you inclined with me? Why take on the emotional fallout with me to do this "experiment"?

DOCTOR: _(Smirks.)_ And thus, we have returned to the hypothesis which we are trying to prove with this experiment.

MARTHA: Okay, I see... circling closer and closer to the heart of the matter.

DOCTOR: We'll get there.

MARTHA: So if you've never had a "moment like this" before, then does that make this the most valuable friendship experience you've ever had?

DOCTOR: _(Thinks.)_ I suppose it does.

MARTHA: Wow, I was kind of joking.

DOCTOR: Well, I'm kind of not.

MARTHA: Then I would have to say, the thing I most value in friendship is exactly the same. This. Which, as you said, is at the very foundation of friendship itself, and all other relationships. It's what makes it satisfying to be with other people.

DOCTOR: I couldn't have said it better myself. _(Clinks teacups with her, then consults papers.)_ What is your most treasured memory?

MARTHA: Besides the aforementioned memories of my grandparents and spending time in Brighton? Well, there are a few candidates. My brother being born. My first kiss. Graduating from university at the top of my class. Stepping into the TARDIS for the first time.

DOCTOR: Really? That ranks up there with your first kiss?

MARTHA: Of course. The experience was... well, surprisingly similar.

DOCTOR: To your first kiss?

MARTHA: Yes! There was a bit of an "it's bigger on the inside" feeling when I had my first kiss too.

DOCTOR: _(One eyebrow raised.)_ Excuse me?

MARTHA: No, no. Filthy mind, you. No, I mean, the feeling of, "Ohhh, now I get it!" It's not just about lips meeting, it's about feeling larger... on the inside.

DOCTOR: Aaah, I see. Very poetic.

MARTHA: Like you suddenly have a whole world of knowledge that you didn't have thirty seconds ago. You finally know things that it has always seemed everyone in the world knows, except you. I suppose losing your virginity is similar.

DOCTOR: _(High, mocking tone.)_ And is that a cherished memory as well?

MARTHA: God, no. Is it ever? _(Hands on cheeks, contemplating frantically.) _No, they were polar opposite experiences!

DOCTOR: No-one seems to want to discuss losing their virginity. Hm. Wonder why.

MARTHA: Well, would you like to discuss losing yours, Doctor?

DOCTOR: It was ceremonial. And I would gladly discuss it, if I could remember it, but we're talking about eight centuries ago, Martha. I mean, many things are imprinted upon my memory from over the course of my long life, but... well, unfortunately, it was just another Austere Time Lordy thing. I was probably looking at my watch the whole time - metaphorically, of course. The matters of the flesh weren't of particular interest to the Time Lords, as a rule.

MARTHA: Okay, so, going back to the question, of all those things imprinted upon your memory, which is your most cherished?

DOCTOR: I suppose it would have to be the memory of stealing the TARDIS.

MARTHA: That's nice. Very poignant.

DOCTOR: Yeah, it is. Not only did it begin a seven-century relationship with the most trusted companion of my life (no offence), and begin this life of wandering as I know it, but it was the day I broke free. It was the day I decided it was probably okay to be me. I would have other days in the years to come when I wasn't so sure. I had plenty of setbacks and second thoughts, but all in all... that was the day. It was a good day.

MARTHA: That is an excellent answer. _(Consults papers.)_ All right. What is your most terrible memory? Well, I think I can guess.

DOCTOR: You probably can. Some of it is a blur, some of it is startlingly clear. And I am the only survivor. _(Pause to let the memory wash off.) _You?

MARTHA: My most terrible memory is... well, you know I've had loss in my life - almost everyone has. My uncle passed, all four of my grandparents have passed, and all of those were sad occasions. I even had a friend my own age who died of cancer when we were both ten. But do you remember my telling you about my cousin Adeola who worked in Canary Wharf and died in that battle?

DOCTOR: Yes. Actually, Martha, I've never told you this, but I met her.

MARTHA: You did?

DOCTOR: Yes. Well, sort of.

MARTHA: What do you mean, sort of?

DOCTOR: By the time I met her, she wasn't really herself anymore.

MARTHA: Well, what happened to her?

DOCTOR: She was converted into a Cyber operative. Her humanity was effectively removed, and replaced with the agenda of a Cyber machine. A conversion unit basically shoved wires into her brain and used her to spy on Torchwood.

MARTHA: Oh my God. Ugh, I think my worst memory just got replaced.

DOCTOR: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.

MARTHA: No, don't be sorry. I asked you to tell me.

DOCTOR: _(Quietly.) _What were you about to say? Do you still want to?

MARTHA: Well, her mum and my dad are brother and sister, and when her parents realised what had happened at Canary Wharf, and were waiting for the official list of the dead to come in, my dad and I went to their house for moral support. There were lots of friends and family there, rallying around them. People held hands and reassured each other, and some prayed for Adi's safe return. When the telegram was finally delivered, I watched my aunt open it... _(Tears up, leans her forehead on her hand, distraught.)_

DOCTOR: Oh, no. _(Takes her other hand.)_

MARTHA: Losing a friend or a grandparent is one thing. Losing your child... well, that has to be agony. Torture.

DOCTOR: It is. Looking ahead to what now seems like an absurdly long existence and contemplating the idea that your children will always, always be just a memory... all the things they will never see and do... _(Sighs sadly.)_

MARTHA: _(Staring intently at him, feeling his pain as well.) _Watching that happen to someone... anyone, let alone someone I love. Watching the kind of pain that a mother feels when she knows she'll never see her baby again... _(Tears fall.)_ I don't even think it is pain. I think it's something else. I don't know if there's a word for it. Something beyond pain, something beyond despair... I can't even fully understand it. I'm not a mother... but can anyone fully understand it?

DOCTOR: No. Many have tried, Martha.

MARTHA: She read the telegram, and her mouth opened like she was going to scream, but nothing came out. She just fell to her knees and shook. Her fists crumpled the telegram. My dad and others tried to talk to her, but she couldn't hear. She just shook and shivered, and eventually her eyes shut really tight, and she just wailed. She collapsed against my dad. And he looked at me with... _(Chokes a little.)_ ...with just pure misery. Or maybe fear. He tried to hold her steady, and his eyes just held me. I couldn't look away. Like he was trying to keep me there, keep me alive, just with his eyes.

DOCTOR: He probably was. I'm sorry, Martha.

MARTHA: _(Takes her hand back.) _For me, the horribleness of that memory is not about the loss of my cousin.

DOCTOR: Right. I get it. It's the emptiness she left in her wake. Martha, I only met her once, and it wasn't even really her, but I'm feeling gutted just from listening to you tell this story.

MARTHA: _(Nods.) _Second-hand grief.

DOCTOR: A very good term for it. _(Smiles reassuringly, then consults papers.) _If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? And why?

MARTHA: I suppose, in light of what I've just told you, I'd spend the next year with my parents. I would try and find a way to make the loss easier on them. If I could get them to do their grieving while I'm still here, then I could help them through it, and everyone would feel a little bit better about saying goodbye.

DOCTOR: Very nice, Martha. I think you might be right.

MARTHA: And I would want to spend more time with you, of course.

DOCTOR: With me?

MARTHA: Well, yeah.

DOCTOR: Why?

MARTHA: Well, who else can guarantee that I'd see absolutely everything it's possible for a human being to see in one year's time? And some things that it would otherwise be impossible for a human being to see!

DOCTOR: Whoa, now, that's a lot of pressure!

MARTHA: Well, fortunately, I'm not actually dying.

DOCTOR: Thank heaven for that! Now what would I do differently? Frankly, I'd probably try and find a way to cheat death.

MARTHA: Again.

DOCTOR: Again. I don't know if I would handle it all that well at this point in my life. There have been times all across my existence when I've felt ready to go. But right here, right now? I'm not keen on dying. I'd fight it tooth and nail.

MARTHA: You know, one might think that a man who has lived almost a thousand years would be more Zen about death, but... I guess sometimes the longer you do something, the harder it is to stop. Including living, I suppose.

DOCTOR: _(Smiles at her comment.) _Or maybe, as you said... I'd try and spend more time with you.

MARTHA: Why me?

DOCTOR: Well, you're very wise. Just today you've managed to put new things into perspective for me. You might be able to help me not ruin the last year of my life trying to fend off the inevitable. You could help make it a nicer year, help me accept it, and just... make it nicer.

MARTHA: Well, thank you, Doctor.

DOCTOR: Don't mention it. I mean, you should know that in general, just having you with me makes things nicer than not having you with me.

MARTHA: Thank you. Really, Doctor, thank you. And if it ever comes down to it, I would be glad to do that for you, try to help you have a nice year. I would try, anyway.

DOCTOR: _(Frowns, grows suddenly grave.)_ Don't tempt me to take you up on that.

MARTHA: Why? I completely mean it.

DOCTOR: Okay. I'll remember.

MARTHA: _(Consults papers.)_ What does friendship mean to you?

DOCTOR: I feel like I've answered this already.

MARTHA: Yeah, me too.

DOCTOR: It's this.

MARTHA: Okay, but what is this? Do you have words for what we're doing?

DOCTOR: Enjoying each other's company. Sharing our lives.

MARTHA: I think maybe it's easier to say what friendship does not mean.

DOCTOR: Perhaps.

MARTHA: It's not perfect. It's not two people sitting around agreeing on everything all the time. And you don't always have to support each other no matter what... would a friend support you if they knew you were making a terrible mistake? Or would they be brutally honest? I think it's the latter.

DOCTOR: It's not really definable either. It carries nuances...

MARTHA: Right, because... well, maybe even what I said is wrong. Maybe you'd have to decide on a case-by-case basis how best to be a friend to someone.

DOCTOR: Offering unconditional support might be a good thing...

MARTHA: But not always. Though, it's important to remember that unconditional support and unconditional love are not the same thing. Friends will always give unconditional love.

DOCTOR: But how are we defining support?

MARTHA: I don't know. Would you support me if I decided to quit medical school to make copper jewellery?

DOCTOR: It would depend upon why you did it.

MARTHA: Okay, fair enough. Plenty of grey area there. But even if you felt like it was the wrong reasons, and you felt you couldn't, in good conscience, tell me to go ahead and do it, would you still buy a pair of earrings from me?

DOCTOR: _(Thinks about it.)_ I suppose I would. I would still want the best of all worlds for you. Even if I think it's a bad idea, I wouldn't want you to crash and burn.

MARTHA: I suppose being a friend is a bit like being a doctor. First do no harm.

DOCTOR: _(Smiling widely.)_ A very good observation! Even though it isn't actually part of the Hippocratic Oath.

MARTHA: I know, but it's a good policy to live by, either way. Even if I can't help you, or even if I just don't want to, I'm at least not going to make things worse for you.

DOCTOR: Unless you're hurting someone else.

MARTHA: Well, again, no harm.

DOCTOR: Right. So what roles do love and affection play in your life?

MARTHA: _(Disarmed.)_ Pardon?

DOCTOR: _(Points at the papers.)_ New question.

MARTHA: Oh. Well, not much of one at the moment. But I think they're important.

DOCTOR: Why?

MARTHA: Because I'm human. We are social creatures. The species literally does not survive without pair bonds. Therefore, it's ingrained in us to look for our other half. We look for love, and crave affection.

DOCTOR: How very clinical of you.

MARTHA: I didn't mean for it to sound clinical. I guess, I just try to use science to justify the fact that... _(sighs heavily.)_

DOCTOR: What?

MARTHA: The fact that I do crave it so much. I've been made to feel weak and silly for wanting to be touched and held and reassured, and for wanting to be with someone.

DOCTOR: Made to feel weak for those things? By whom?

MARTHA: Different people throughout my life. My mother, who thinks men are a distraction and saboteurs to all women, and are bound to pull them off their paths toward greatness - case in point, me spending time with you. My friend Selena who believes all people are better off without the drama caused by romantic relationships. Needless to say, she's been hurt one too many times.

DOCTOR: Misery loves company, I suppose.

MARTHA: Yeah, there's that, but... it's weird. If I get together with my girlfriends and have a drink, and I say something like, "There's someone I fancy, and I fantasise about us being together forever, him loving me for me, holding me when I cry, giving me neck rubs, listening to me when I am upset, being my best friend and someone on whom I can depend for life," I get laughed at. Or, at least I would, if I ever were daft enough to say it in front of them. But if I said, "I need to get laid, plain and simple. I want sex, and I don't have time for details," then they jump on it, and are all about finding someone for me to chew up and spit out. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, if it's a generational thing, if it's just a _my friends_ thing, but... we seem incapable of revealing what we really want, even though we all know, we're all thinking it - it's what human beings are hard-wired to search for. Maybe we can admit it one-on-one to our best friends, but... let me tell you, there's no safety in numbers.

DOCTOR: Well, I'm not exactly a group of girlfriends, but you can definitely admit it to me.

MARTHA: _(Smiles wryly.)_ Oh, I don't know about that.

DOCTOR: No, you really can. I will never judge you for wanting the affection over the shag. Of course, I wouldn't judge you for wanting the shag either.

MARTHA: I must say, Doctor, that in talking to you about such things, the things I really want in the arena of love and affection, I would worry very little about judgment.

DOCTOR: I'm very glad to hear that, but I'm sensing... you're being a bit cryptic again.

MARTHA: Perhaps I am. But Doctor, what role do love and affection play in your life?

DOCTOR: Well, like you, I suppose not much of one. But I haven't given up hope.

MARTHA: Right. Why would you?

DOCTOR: Well, I can think of a hundred reasons to give up. At the moment, I have only two good reasons to keep plugging.

MARTHA: Which are?

DOCTOR: One, in spite of my Austere Time Lordy background, I crave it, just the way you do. Sometimes I wonder if I was born on the wrong planet.

MARTHA: A very good reason

DOCTOR: And two... well, I just see so much potential. Finding love isn't as difficult as people say.

MARTHA: Oh, no? What makes you so sure?

DOCTOR: _(Smiles.) _Wouldn't be sporting to say.

MARTHA: Again? Okay. In that case, in lieu of being annoyed, I'm moving on. _(Consults papers.)_ Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

DOCTOR: Okay, I'll start. You're bloody brilliant.

MARTHA: _(Taken aback.)_ Whoa. Thank you. You are too, and not just clever-brilliant, but, like, you know... properly brilliant.

DOCTOR: What does "properly brilliant" mean?

MARTHA: I can't describe it. You just are. And it' s not because you're a Time Lord either. You're just... brilliant. _(Smiles with finality.)_

DOCTOR: _(Smiles back_._)_ Thank you, Martha. And well, harkening back to a bit earlier, I'll say that I really do like your singing voice.

MARTHA: Thank you. I like how fast you can talk without tripping over anything. You're like a verbal machine gun.

DOCTOR: Lovely! Even when I'm saying absolutely nothing of import?

MARTHA: Yes, even then. Especially then.

DOCTOR: I love your skin.

MARTHA: My skin?

DOCTOR: Yes. _(Slightly dreamy.) _It's like in those television adverts for fine chocolates, and they show the rivers of caramel that... _(Catches himself. Clears his throat.)_ Sorry. Got a bit... sorry.

MARTHA: Sorry for what?

DOCTOR: Can I say that? Caramel?

MARTHA: Why not?

DOCTOR: I don't know.

MARTHA: It's sweet, and you like it. Right?

DOCTOR: Yes. Yes.

MARTHA: All right. Well, I can't turn down a compliment like that!

DOCTOR: Er, good. _(Uneasy.)_

MARTHA: I like the way you move.

DOCTOR: The way I move?

MARTHA: Yes, there's something... intentional and natural about it. Both. You move with purpose. Like someone who just has things to do, damn it, and whose allure is totally irrelevant.

DOCTOR: Interesting. Irrelevant allure.

MARTHA: Irrelevant but not ineffective.

DOCTOR: _(Cocking an eyebrow.)_ Mm. Good to know. _(Switching tones.) _Well, I like that your choice of profession isn't just a choice of profession. I've watched you try and help humans at multiple points of history, and non-humans at multiple points across the universe, and... it just seems to be who you are. You said earlier that you think there's more to life than achieving, and you said you didn't know when it was that you decided to become a doctor. Maybe that's because you never did decide, exactly. Maybe, by going to medical school, you're just cultivating a vine that grows inside you, and it's not about achievement.

MARTHA: Doctor, that is high praise indeed.

DOCTOR: You don't disagree, do you?

MARTHA: No, I suppose not. Hm... cultivating a vine that grows inside me. I like that. May I use it?

DOCTOR: Of course. It's your vine.

MARTHA: It's very well-put. Well-worded. You do have a gift for words, Doctor, I must say. So, I suppose that not only do I like how fast you talk, but also the fact that you'd rather talk than fight.

DOCTOR: Thanks. But you should know that the tendency not to want particularly to fight might just be encoded in my DNA. And these days, talking has become a stalling tactic more than anything.

MARTHA: _(Stares at him quizzically.)_ Is that what's happening now?

DOCTOR: Is what?

MARTHA: Are we talking because you're stalling for some reason? Are you using this conversation as some sort of tactic? Oh my God, are you distracting me?

DOCTOR: _(Sighs, and pulls his hand down over his face in exasperation.)_ Well, sort of. Wait, no. Tactic, maybe. Distracting, no. Oh, blimey, this is a mess. All right, look, I'll tell you. These objective here is...

MARTHA: No, I don't want to know.

DOCTOR: Excuse me?

MARTHA: Upon contemplation, I don't want to know. Let's just keep going.

DOCTOR:In that case, my final compliment is, in spite of the fact that you are the self-professed Miss Independent, I like the fact that you have such faith in me.

MARTHA: Really?

DOCTOR: Of course.

MARTHA: _(Soft voice.) _You recognise that?

DOCTOR: The fact that you're so trusting, in spite of your analytical bent? Yes, I recognise it.

MARTHA: Then do you understand that I don't have such faith in everyone? That I'm not trusting by nature? That it's...

DOCTOR: Yes. I understand.

MARTHA: Good. Sometimes I'm not sure that I do.

DOCTOR: That's okay. These things are not always meant to be understood.

MARTHA: Then my last comment is, I like that you know and understand me so well. I wouldn't have thought it before today, but this little exercise has been the proof.

DOCTOR: _(Gazes at her for longer than normal.)_ I wouldn't have thought so either. _(Smiles, pauses, consults papers.) _How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?

MARTHA: Well, my childhood, as I said, was regimented and we did a lot of mandated activities. But I was never particularly unhappy, we certainly had everything we needed, and there was never any want of closeness or affection. My parents told us all the time how good we were, both with our skills and as people. They told us we were smart and worthy, and that they loved us. And they encouraged us to tell each other as much, as well.

DOCTOR: _(Smiles again.)_ That explains a lot.

MARTHA: Though, I have to say, my mother being who she is, she never did "train" me and Tish on how to play the game, as it were. The dating game, the romance game, whatever you want to call it. As I got to be an adult, like we talked about before, I started to realise that it was perfectly normal to want those sorts of things, but my mother never made me feel okay about it. She was so concerned that I feel okay about myself that she actually wound up causing the opposite, from time to time. And things like that linger, you know?

DOCTOR: I do know. And again, this explains a lot.

MARTHA: _(Smiles self-consciously.)_ A lot about what?

DOCTOR: Your disposition. The way you handle... things. Me.

MARTHA: I can't handle you, that's part of the problem.

DOCTOR: _(Smirks, non-committal, and nods.)_ As for me, my family was as close as could be expected, considering that everyone was an Austere Time Lord. Gallifreyans are not effusive as a rule, but humans are - it's probably no great revelation that this may be why I relate so well to you lot.

MARTHA: Were you a different sort of parent than your own parents? I mean, have you always been effusive like a human?

DOCTOR: Not always quite like I am now, but maybe I have been always a bit more so than my fellow Gallifreyans. I do like to think I was a bit more, say, affectionate than what I was raised with. But like I told you before, childhood, and by extension, parenthood, are painfully short. In a life that lasts millennia, fifteen years isn't even a drop in the bucket. It's... well, it's almost cruel. The Academy has more effect on a child than do his parents. Drastically more.

MARTHA: _(Glances at the papers and chuckles.) _And in a related story: How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

DOCTOR: Oh, Martha, I don't even know anymore. For many reasons, I have long-since put that question out of my mind.

MARTHA: I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: Don't get me wrong. It's more because of an absence of answers, rather than the possibility that I won't like the answers. My life being what it is, that is to say, long and bizarre, and the Time Lords being what they were... I don't have any feelings about the relationship, so I don't bother to wonder. I've had many more significant relationships in my life. Which, I suppose, might seem a bit sad from your point of view, because you're giving me that puppy-dog look... but it's fine. My existence is not like yours, and my experiences cannot be considered parallel.

MARTHA: All right, then.

DOCTOR: Sorry. I just have nothing to say on the subject. You, on the other hand, have a compelling answer to give, and you just gave it.

MARTHA: Well, the things I just said about my mother are... well, true, but don't make any room to acknowledge that for every "wrong" thing she's ever done as a mum, she's done ten thousand things right.

DOCTOR: I would probably agree with that. Just based on what little I have seen.

MARTHA: _(Contemplative.) _We fight. We almost cannot have a telephone conversation without a row. I think that on a very basic level, she doesn't get me - not the way you do. But on a level that's not-so-basic, she completely does get me. She doesn't understand my motivations sometimes, and she doesn't listen to me when I try to explain them. I feel that she favours my sister and brother over me. She is my conscience, and sometimes I really resent that, especially lately. She is infuriating. She seems to have selective hearing. She doesn't seem to trust me to conduct my own life.

DOCTOR: Martha, I...

MARTHA: But most of the time, in spite of myself, I'm comfortable with all of that. It's all normal. I know that some of it is in my head, and the situations get twisted out of shape in my perception... though that doesn't make it any easier to let go of it. But it's okay. Over time, some of these things will become clearer and resolve themselves, and other things will pop up as conflict. But I love my mum, and Dear God, does she love me.

DOCTOR: _(Smiles softly.)_ You're really one-of-a-kind, Martha. And I've been almost literally everywhere.

MARTHA: That means a hell of a lot, coming from someone who actually is one-of-a-kind.

DOCTOR: Yes, it does mean a lot. You mean a lot.

MARTHA: _(Breaks eye-contact.) _This time, would you like me to freshen the tea?

DOCTOR: Nah. How about some ice cream instead?


	3. Chapter 3

**The final act!**

**I will put my "real" grown-up Author's Note at the end! **

**Except this: I'm a francophile, and there's nothing I can do about that, and I know it pops up in my fanfic a lot! (I'm showing self-awareness here.)**

**And this: we left off with the Doctor and Martha getting closer than ever. In fact, it was getting a little intense, so they decided to take a break for ice cream!**

**And one last thing: I hope you don't find the ending too abrupt. I think our heroes were taken a bit by surprise at the end of this experiment, and were surprised at how quickly things progressed from there.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

**ACT III**

_(MARTHA and THE DOCTOR return to the table, each with a bowl of a different kind of ice cream.)_

MARTHA: What did you end up with?

DOCTOR: Pralines 'n' Cream. You?

MARTHA: Banana Walnut.

DOCTOR: Oh, I love that one. Banana's my favourite.

MARTHA: Yeah. You know, Doctor, I'm trying very hard not to feel utterly betrayed that you have never before shown me your Chamber of Ice Cream.

DOCTOR: Chamber of Ice Cream? That's very grandiose. Like, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Ice Cream."

MARTHA: It's a walk-in freezer with over seventy types of ice cream, and nothing else! What would you call it?

DOCTOR: A... walk-in-freezer... filled with... various types of... milk-based confection.

MARTHA: _(Laughs.)_ Ah, yes, very catchy. I'm just saying, I'm angry that I didn't know about it before now.

DOCTOR: Everything in due course, Martha. Not all Companions get to go in there, you know. You happen to warrant exposure to my ice cream vulnerability.

MARTHA: Well, I'm flattered. I think.

DOCTOR: You should be. Shall we continue?

MARTHA: Yes.

DOCTOR: _(Consults papers, as he licks his spoon.) _Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling ... "

MARTHA: I feel like we've done this before.

DOCTOR: Yeah, there was something similar earlier. There does seem to be a circular quality to these questions. Almost as though the experiment is trying to get us to evolve our thinking within a short span.

MARTHA: I think you're right, with all the similar questions about family life and upbringing, and my mother...

DOCTOR: And the nature of friendship.

MARTHA: Evolving our thinking. Would that be part of the objective?

DOCTOR: I suppose. _(Shrugs.)_

MARTHA: Honesty, relationships, evolved thinking. Okay. I'm starting to get it.

DOCTOR: I thought you said you didn't want to know.

MARTHA: I don't want you to tell me. But I can't help but speculate, or try to work it out on my own. I'm inquisitive like that. I guess I can't just sit back and do it, let it happen and enjoy it.

DOCTOR: I'll keep that in mind. _(Clears throat.)_ So, three true "we" statements.

MARTHA: Well, would it be fair to say that we are both seeing a change? A kind of evolution, like you said?

DOCTOR: It would.

MARTHA: Good. Because this whole thing is new. I've never been quite so honest with you, and vice versa - assuming you are, in fact, being honest.

DOCTOR: I am.

MARTHA: And answering questions like this would have been unthinkable to you yesterday, or so I'm guessing.

DOCTOR: Unthinkable? Maybe, maybe not. But definitely much more difficult. This process brings one's guard down.

MARTHA: And, let's see, statement number two... we are both feeling apprehensive about what that means. Is that fair?

DOCTOR: It is.

MARTHA: _(Stares at him for a long time, with nervousness. He stares back.)_ And number three: we will never be the same again, will we?

DOCTOR: _(Softly.) _I reckon not.

MARTHA: So when I said before that I wasn't sure we'd still be friends when all is said and done... I guess I wasn't completely mad to wonder.

DOCTOR: I reckon not.

MARTHA: _(Practically whispering now.) _That was three. Your turn.

DOCTOR: Okay. We both care about each other a lot. We always have.

MARTHA: Fair. That only counts as one, FYI.

DOCTOR: The minute we had our first adventure together, we became inextricably linked.

MARTHA: I feel like that's true, but you've got a lot more experience with having adventures with people. Are you inextricably linked with all of them?

DOCTOR: Yes. In different ways. And Martha, _(Reaches across the table and takes her hand.) _I'm going to say this, and I'm not going to ask for feedback. _(Looks her dead in the eyes.) _We will be fine.

MARTHA: _(Whispers, strained.) _Okay.

DOCTOR: We will.

MARTHA: Okay.

DOCTOR: _(Squeezes, then lets go of her hand, and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms.) _So, to sum up: we are feeling an evolution of sorts, we're both apprehensive about it, and we will never be the same again. But, we care about each other, are inextricably linked, and we will be okay.

MARTHA: _(Smiles.)_ When you edit out the rubbish, it doesn't sound so bad.

DOCTOR: No, in fact, it sounds rather good. Funny how editing-out-the-rubbish can work.

MARTHA: Indeed. _(Consults papers.) _Complete this sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share ..."

DOCTOR: _(Puts hands in lap and stares down at them.)_ Everything.

MARTHA: Everything?

DOCTOR: Everything. I wish I had someone with whom I could share everything.

MARTHA: Is that even possible for you?

DOCTOR: _(Looks up at the ceiling contemplatively, taking in a deep breath.)_ Well, I suppose... it's not. Technically.

MARTHA: That's why I said earlier, I wish I could wake up tomorrow with the ability to keep up with you.

DOCTOR: _(Still staring up, and otherwise avoiding her eye.)_ Keeping up with me. Time and space. These aren't the things that matter in the long run.

MARTHA: No?

DOCTOR: No.

MARTHA: Then what things do matter?

DOCTOR: _(Finally looks at her.)_ Things like this, I suppose. Sharing thoughts and histories. Sharing my insides, which are... _(Chuckles.)_ bigger than my outsides.

MARTHA: _(Chuckles also.)_ You stole that joke from me.

DOCTOR: Can't we share that too?

MARTHA: _(Laughs.) _Yes, I suppose we can. What else?

DOCTOR: What do you mean?

MARTHA: I don't know, I just thought you had more to say.

DOCTOR: _(Thinks.)_ Well, maybe. Actually, nah. Never mind. Let's move on. You finish the sentence now.

MARTHA: Er, okay. I wish I had someone with whom I could share... well, like you said, everything. And I'll just say... my insides and my outsides.

DOCTOR: _(Raising an eyebrow.)_ Saucy.

MARTHA: Come on, Doctor. I suspect that when you had more to say, then changed your mind... that's what went unsaid. Isn't it?

DOCTOR: Yeah. Yeah, it is.

MARTHA: We've talked about wishes and hopes, and finding love. None of this should be a revelation, should it? It's cerebral and it's physical - all part of the package.

DOCTOR: True. I guess sometimes I have problems talking about it, I mean, just coming out and saying it. I don't know why.

MARTHA: Well, you're old.

DOCTOR: _(Laughs. Consults papers.) _If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

MARTHA: If I were going to? Well, this experiment doesn't think much of us, does it?

DOCTOR: I suppose it doesn't necessarily assume that its subjects will already be quite close. Which is interesting, if you know the intent of the questions.

MARTHA: Well, since we're already pretty close friends, let's deconstruct the question.

DOCTOR: All right. _ (Pause.) _ Wait, what?

MARTHA: What's the question really asking? I think it's asking: In a close friendship, what sorts of things do you imagine would become a problem, an impediment to the friendship, should the other party come upon that knowledge by surprise.

DOCTOR: Ah, I see what you're saying. You're right - I think that's exactly what it's asking.

MARTHA: So what sorts of things have become a problem in our friendship?

DOCTOR: I asked you first.

MARTHA: _(Sighs, grows nervous.)_ Okay, honesty, right?

DOCTOR: Yes.

MARTHA: _(Pauses, as if gathering the nerve.)_ I find you very sexy. Very, very.

DOCTOR: _(Chuckles.)_ And that's a problem?

MARTHA: Aren't you even going to pretend to be surprised?

DOCTOR: Okay, sorry. _(Affects a surprised air, and raises his voice an octave.) _Oh, goodness me - really, Martha?

MARTHA: Shut up.

DOCTOR: _(Chuckles again.) _How is it a problem, then?

MARTHA: It makes my end of the friendship harder. I constantly feel on-guard.

DOCTOR: Oh. Sorry.

MARTHA: _(Smiles sheepishly.)_ Why are you sorry? What's the solution? Ask you to dress differently, style your hair differently? Move differently? Stop being you? Pfff.

DOCTOR: Okay, not sorry. Mwa-ha-ha.

MARTHA: _(Sits back and gestures for him to speak.)_

DOCTOR: Well, for my part, I would ordinarily say that the first thing you should know about me is that I'm not human. But knowing you as I do, I can say that my non-humanness has not been a problem for us, and never would be a problem. So, let's see... well, in light of... things... I guess what you probably should know is that I've been trying to get over a loss, and I'm still a bit raw.

MARTHA: An excellent choice of revelation, Doctor. That is definitely something I would have liked to have known outright, before climbing aboard. Though this information alone would not have given me any idea that your scars are as deep as they are.

DOCTOR: All right, I see. In that case... I had someone in my life whom I loved very much, and she was taken from me. She didn't die - she was just shut out, to a place where I cannot ever get her back. And I never got a chance to tell her how I felt. Actually, that's not true. I did get a chance - I was just too bloody slow, and I have serious guilt and regret over that, and about a hundred other related things.

MARTHA: Too bloody slow?

DOCTOR: _(Slows down, realising how much he's just said. Looks into his ice cream bowl with emptiness, with a scowl.) _

MARTHA: It's okay - you don't have to tell me any more.

DOCTOR: Yes, I do. We're down the rabbit hole now, Martha. _(Deep breath. Long pause. Begins speaking mechanically.) _Canary Wharf. The same day that you lost your cousin. The breach between universes was open, and I had magnetised it, so as to suck in anything that had been through it before - and that included me and her. Rose. She got pulled of her feet and was about to fly into nothingness, into the only thing the Time Lords believed could come close to a literal hell. At the last second, her father saved her, and used this device to blip them into a parallel universe. That was literally a split second before the breach closed forever, and all breaches between universes.

MARTHA: Oh my God.

DOCTOR: Not even the TARDIS can universe-hop when all things are stable. The fact that we were ever able to do at all, it was a very bad sign - it meant that the fabric of reality was, well, fractured. In a lot of places. Remember the ghosts at that time? They were coming through the cracks all over the world. But once everything went back to the way it should be, and the breach slammed shut, to get Rose back would have meant ripping holes where they don't belong, and literally risking destruction of both universes.

MARTHA: _(Contemplates him.) _My God, Doctor. If you're this damaged, what is life like for her?

DOCTOR: I thought about that a lot after it happened. It was a very violent way for us to be separated. I couldn't... _(Swallows hard, tries again.)_ I couldn't bear the idea of not having that closure, or of denying it to her. I felt I couldn't leave it the way it was - the last glimpse either one of us had of the other was reaching toward one another and screaming in horror.

MARTHA: _(Swallows hard herself.) _Oh... I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: I was so angry with myself, just depressed beyond belief, for weeks. I was angry because I'd forgotten what this life could be like. The two of us, we had... we'd been too silly for too long. Careless. With our actions, with our emotions, with everything... and that's what caused this. The universe wouldn't have it.

MARTHA: Are you talking about karma?

DOCTOR: Maybe. _(Another quick, deep breath, crosses his arms.) _But, you know, I might have been able to live with it, and so would she. Instead, I made it worse. I located a tiny crack in the fabric of reality, and burned up a whole bunch of energy, knowing that I only had a few minutes, to project myself as a hologram onto her world, just to say goodbye. I burned out an unused sun to do it.

MARTHA: You reached out. Because she literally couldn't.

DOCTOR: _(Nods.)_ That was the idea. She stood there and wept... tight, hard sobs, a kind I've never seen anyone do before or since - it was horrible. Like a carbonated liquid shaken in a plastic bottle. And she screwed up her courage... like she had to run up a mountain to do it. She lost her nerve and tried again... _(Stops, takes a deep breath to keep emotions in check.)_

MARTHA: It's okay, Doctor.

DOCTOR: ...and she told me she loved me. It was nothing I hadn't known, but it still hit me like a ton of bricks. And I got ready to say it back, but I gave it too much preamble, I used too much time to try and make it... I don't know, more ceremonious? More meaningful? And all I could get out was her name before the energy ran out, and the crack closed and all breaches got sealed off again.

MARTHA: _(Instinctively leaning forward.) _Oh, but she knew how you felt, Doctor. How could she not?

DOCTOR: Aw, Martha, you know me. I'm not the most transparent guy. What if she didn't know? What if she just suspected, and now will never know for certain?

MARTHA: Well, what the hell else does she think you could have been getting ready to say, if she had just said she loved you, and you were being all ceremonial?

DOCTOR: I don't know.

MARTHA: I wish there were something I could say, Doctor.

DOCTOR: _(A long, heavy silence. He speaks, at least at first, almost without moving his lips.)_ I suppose this is why I've been such a prat to you for so long. She was lovely and unique, and innocent... and also, actually, really annoying sometimes. But we had some amazing runs, and I had allowed myself to be lulled into believing that we could be together for a long, long time. Like, I could help her grow old. I thought we'd have her whole life, to do what needed doing, say what needed saying. And not only did I lose all of that in the blink of an eye, but I also had no closure - twice!- and I left her with none, twice as well. I created more questions than I answered. I hurt her even more with that whole hologram business. And afterwards, I scolded myself even worse for being stupid enough to believe... stupid enough to trust myself with that kind of relationship.

MARTHA: Oh, Doctor.

DOCTOR: _(Suddenly looks at her squarely, with tears in his eyes.) _So, Martha, listen to me. Any kind of "slight" you may have perceived as coming from me... it's nothing to do with you. You are brilliant. You are amazing. You... well, if I'm honest, objectively, you are a much better match for me than she was. Which, actually, isn't saying much because she wasn't a great match for me, if all you do is add up the numbers. But it is, really saying a lot, because you... you're everything good that she was, and more. It's about me, Martha. I am like a hurricane when it comes to other people's hearts and lives. I feel like can't trust me, no matter how badly I want to trust you.

MARTHA: _(Near tears now, barely able to speak)_. I thought, all this time...

DOCTOR: That I've just been a blunt instrument?

MARTHA: Yeah.

DOCTOR: I'm not a blunt instrument, I can assure you.

MARTHA: _(Smiling sheepishly.) _I'm sorry if I've been all pouty over it - I didn't understand.

DOCTOR: There's no reason why you should. It's all my fault, Martha. All the misery you've felt since you've been with me - my fault. I just wanted someone clever to travel with, so I chose you. _(Soft smile.) _Of course, it didn't hurt that you're also kind of gorgeous. The point is, it didn't take me too terribly long to realise what was on your mind, and yet... I guess I was crippled. Too paralyzed by everything to say or do the right thing.

MARTHA: _(Very, very softly, with apprehension.) _The right thing. Which is what?

DOCTOR: I don't know anymore. I don't think I've ever quite known. But, I'll tell you, I think this experiment is a step in the right direction.

MARTHA: _(Breaks eye-contact, a bit overwhelmed.) _Well, in any case, thank you for giving me a bit of context. I suppose, since I do trust you, I should have trusted that this would all come to light in its time, but... I really needed that.

DOCTOR: Context. I guess that's what the question was all about. For what do people need context, in order to understand us well?

MARTHA: Exactly. And it's better late than never, right?

DOCTOR: _(Smiles lightly.) _I suppose.

MARTHA: _(Consults papers.) _Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.

DOCTOR: _(Smiles again, this time with real affection.) _Again, I feel like I've said it.

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: I'm running out of ways to say "brilliant." And, you're beautiful. Like china-doll beautiful, Martha. I'm guessing you've been told it before, a thousand times even before today, but I'm still not sure if you know it or not. You act like you have no idea. Which is another thing I like about you.

MARTHA: _(Opens her mouth, but cannot seem to respond.)_

DOCTOR: But you're also... just so nice. It's your amazing upbringing, with parents who were liberal with their affections and praise, wanting you to be comfortable in your own skin. It's the part of you that never just decided one day to become a doctor, but has always known that the spirit of healing others has been in you always. It's like... you've managed to take "brilliant" and "nice" and combine them as an art form, or something.

MARTHA: _(Still speechless.)_

DOCTOR: Blimey, that all sounded camp, but it's also very, very true. _(Smiles.)_ I'll take the shocked look on your face as a "thank you," and a sign of quiet humility. Your turn.

MARTHA: _(Stutters a bit.) _Erm, what do I like about you? It would be easier just to isolate the one or two things that I slightly don't like.

DOCTOR: If you must, but try not to be too effusive about it.

MARTHA: Okay. Well, until today, I would have said that you're much too secretive, and not very sensitive.

DOCTOR: Fair enough.

MARTHA: But we both know that the latter is not true at all, and the former is no longer the case. Let's see, you chew a bit loudly, and it might be nice to see you wear something else once in a while, but both of those things I've more or less got used to.

DOCTOR: _(After waiting a long while for her to continue.)_ Is that it?

MARTHA: Well, what do you want from me? I like almost everything about you! We've already established that I'm fond of the way you look, the way you move, the way you talk and think. I like the fact that you've devoted your very long life to troubleshooting the known universe! I even like your non-humanness! I like how you mop up the sugar at the bottom of your espresso with your index and middle fingers, then suck it off.

DOCTOR: You've noticed that?

MARTHA: Of course I have! It drives me to distraction! And I like those stupid pink striped pyjamas that you wear, and the fact that even though you've worn them for several years and have no idea who Howard is, you still call them "Howard's" pyjamas.

DOCTOR: To be fair, I know who Howard is, I've just never met him.

MARTHA: Whatever - it's charming. I like the way you kiss. I like the way you dance.

DOCTOR: Dance?

MARTHA: Yeah, we went dancing in 1969, remember? You're not great at it, but I liked it because it was you. _(Exasperated sigh.) _I just can't say what I like about you, Doctor, sorry. It's just too much to ask! Too much!

DOCTOR: Okay, okay, no need to get all wound up. I think you've managed to answer the question just fine. _(Consults papers.)_ Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

MARTHA: Besides this one?

DOCTOR: This isn't embarrassing. Now, come on. Spill.

MARTHA: Ugh. Have you got any alcohol?

DOCTOR: Seriously?

MARTHA: _(Sighs.)_ No, I suppose not. _(Thinks.) _All right, I'll deliver, but you'd better reciprocate with something big, Mister. Got it?

DOCTOR: Got it.

MARTHA: Well, remember how I said that losing my virginity was not one of my most cherished memories?

DOCTOR: Yes. Oh, this is very, very promising!

MARTHA: Okay, I was eighteen, just finishing up my gap year in Sweden.

DOCTOR: Why Sweden?

MARTHA: They had a really good hospital internship thing for post-secondary students headed to uni, who were serious about about medicine as a career. Anyway, I'd become friends with this bloke named Albin, who was a fellow intern from Geneva, Switzerland. Albin, as it turned out, was gay.

DOCTOR: Okay. That did not go the way I thought it would.

MARTHA: But, his friend Rémi was not. He introduced me to Rémi in the last three weeks before our internship was to end, and we were all supposed to get on a plane and head home. Rémi was twenty-one, so a big, sophisticated - at least to my eighteen-year-old palate - Swiss university student, who also happened to be smoking hot. Or at least, I thought so at the time. Looking back now, I'm not so sure. He had just arrived in Stockholm, he and Albin had grown up together.

DOCTOR: Oh. I'm guessing that little tidbit figures into the story later.

MARTHA: Correct. Albin wanted Rémi to feel welcome, so he gathered a bunch of people, including me, to take Rémi out to dinner his first week in town. And what can I say? Rémi liked me, and I liked him. Almost from the moment we met, he began firing both barrels at me, and I fired back. I thought he was nice, and he was clever, and I really do think that he was - is - a human being of actual substance, it's just... well, everyone involved was just so young. It's hard to be substantial when your hormones are raging.

DOCTOR: Very well-put.

MARTHA: We went out on three dates in my last two weeks in Stockholm, the third of which was on my last night. Before even leaving my flat, I decided two things: one, I was finally going to try out my French on him, even though he spoke English fine. And two, I was probably going to sleep with him, unless something went horribly wrong.

DOCTOR: Wow. Women actually do that?

MARTHA: Yep. All the time. The thing is, the more I thought about it, the more I didn't fancy the idea of going back to London as a virgin, and maybe losing it to some boring English guy.

DOCTOR: Martha!

MARTHA: I know, I know, but just let me finish, 'cause I haven't even got to the embarrassing part yet. So, one of the problems was, I had only had three years of French, and it had been very by-the-book, classroom French. I knew how to use it, basically, but I wasn't confident, and I didn't know any colloquial language. But I really wanted to impress him - leave my mark, as it were.

DOCTOR: I think I might see where this is going.

MARTHA: Yeah, you probably do. Anyway, I went to this flat that he shared with two other guys, and, thankfully, they had cleared out, so we were there alone. After gathering up my courage, I said "bonsoir" to him, and we exchanged a few basic pleasantries in French, and he responded well, complimented my accent, and I felt pretty confident! Over dinner, we spoke a bit more in French, falling apart a few times and reverting to English because I couldn't speak fast enough or say what I wanted... but I was feeling okay about it. I knew I was making mistakes, but I was communicating, and impressing my date! Two glasses of wine didn't hurt either.

DOCTOR: _(Nods, smiles, expectantly.)_

MARTHA: _(Explaining a bit sheepishly now.) _So, after dinner, we go to the sofa, ostensibly to chat, but we both know that's not why. Eventually, he's moved so close to me, I can feel his breath on my cheek. He's being all sweet and smooth, telling me about how hard it could have been, coming to a new city, were it not for meeting me. Feeling brave, I whispered, all sultry and low, "Je veux que tu me baises."

DOCTOR: _(Groans, half-laughing.)_

MARTHA: I thought I was saying I wanted him to kiss me.

DOCTOR: And you'd be well within your rights to think that.

MARTHA: But I was wrong. Fortunately, what I actually said... well, I more or less wanted that too. I just didn't realise until later the mistake I'd made.

DOCTOR: Oh, Martha.

MARTHA: No, wait. It gets worse. So, he kisses me, because I think, in spite of my error, he knew what I meant. And we have a good snog, then after a bit, we move things into the bedroom. I've already got my top off, and he looks down at me and says, "As-tu un préservatif?"

DOCTOR: _(Laughs.)_ An understandable misconception for a native-speaker of English.

MARTHA: So I frowned, a bit confused, and answered in English, "No, it's all mine."

DOCTOR: What?

MARTHA: I dunno! I thought he was asking if I had been chemically enhanced somehow, like maybe my breasts were fake. Which was really weird, because they're not that spectacular. So, he frowns back at me, likely just as confused, as you were a moment ago. So, he gets up, goes into the other room, and I hear him rifling through a bunch of boxes, which he has yet to unpack, and he comes back with a condom. Because, of course he does, right?

DOCTOR: Right. So if he had one, why did he ask?

MARTHA: I guess because they were still packed? Anyway, things at this point are getting really hot and heavy, and he basically groans into my ear, "Je veux m'introduire à toi."

DOCTOR: _(Groans, and covers face.)_

MARTHA: Which, if I'd known what it really meant, under the circumstances, might have been kind of hot. Unfortunately, I didn't know, and trying to be sexy and clever, and give him some innuendo to chew on, I said something like, "I think you already did that a couple of weeks ago, but I'm ready to learn new things about you."

DOCTOR: Oh, Martha. You would have been better off with a boring English guy.

MARTHA: _(Sighing, matter-of-factly.) _So, we had sex. It lasted about, oh, ten minutes. And let's just say... it was a more satisfying experience for him than it was for me.

DOCTOR: Well, that's typical.

MARTHA: Yeah, I suppose. Afterwards, we had Tiramisù and coffee for dessert, but he kept steering me away from speaking French. Which was fine with me - I was pretty tired, in spite of not having exactly exerted myself. Then we kissed each other goodbye and I went back to my own flat to pack. I didn't feel bad or regretful or disappointed... until the next day.

DOCTOR: Uh-oh.

MARTHA: Most of the interns were flying out of Stockholm on the same day, so in the morning, we all got together at this breakfast place near the aeroport and had one last meal together. When I saw Albin, I said, "Guess what I did!" And he started laughing and said he already knew. And he also said, in front of everyone, "For future reference, 'baiser' is to fuck, a 'préservatif' is a condom, and 'm'introduire' means to insert myself."

DOCTOR: Oh. So your friend delivered the bad news with a great deal of tact.

MARTHA: Oh, yes, a great deal. I was so mortified, I wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the breakfast, and I didn't say goodbye to him at the aeroport. I still have never spoken to either of them again. I was angry at all things French for a while.

DOCTOR: How very English of you. But why not all things Swiss?

MARTHA: I blamed the language.

DOCTOR: You blamed the language itself?

MARTHA: Of course! When you literally say, "I want to introduce myself to you," and what you mean is, "I want to insert myself into you"... what kind of sense does that make? It's like they're deliberately laying traps for non-native French-speakers!

DOCTOR: Well, I wouldn't put it past them.

MARTHA: And what kind of language has a word that, as a noun means an innocent kiss, but as a verb, is the most vulgar possible word for sexual intercourse?

DOCTOR: _(Smirk.) _A very good point.

MARTHA: And "préservatif?" What do they think they're "preserving" with those things, exactly? The rubber industry?

DOCTOR: I'm sure I do not know, Martha. _(Chuckles.)_

MARTHA: _(Sigh.)_ So, no more sex in French for me. _(Pausing, sitting up straight.) _Okay, sir. I just gave you some juicy material.

DOCTOR: Okay, well, speaking of sex in French...

MARTHA: Is this the Versailles story?

DOCTOR: Sort of, but it's not what you think.

MARTHA: Carry on.

DOCTOR: Is it all right if I just confess something a bit shameful? A time when I was a huge, huge idiot, and things could have gone horribly wrong? When I showed the least amount of good-judgment and/or self-restraint in recent memory, and the only reason I lived to tell the tale was just dumb luck? Or, the universe, again, telling me to check myself?

MARTHA: So, a story in which nothing embarrassing ended up happening?

DOCTOR: Not exactly, but it's something I've never told anyone because I've been too ashamed.

MARTHA: Okay. Go.

DOCTOR: _(Deep breath.) _A while back, Rose and Mickey and I discovered a ship in which there were a number of time portals. We were in the fifty-first century in space, and the portals led to different points in the eighteenth century, on Earth. They were dotted all along the life of a particular woman: Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, also known as Madame de Pompadour, official mistress to Louis XV of France.

MARTHA: Yep. I know who that is. I took French in school, remember?

DOCTOR: How could I forget? Well, the first portal opened upon her childhood, and I saved her from... well, it's a long story, but there was a mind-probing robot under her bed.

MARTHA: Ugh - under the bed of a child?

DOCTOR: Charming, isn't it? So, from the time she was seven years old, she was a little infatuated with me. Okay, a lot infatuated. And over the course of the next thirty years, which was less than a whole day from my fifty-first-century spaceship point of view, I grew a little infatuated with her as well.

MARTHA: _(Teasing.) _Was it her reputation that drew you in, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Not at all. She was spectacular in-person - her reputation did her little justice, actually. Which was part of the reason why, at one point, in order to save her life, I trapped myself in her time. I really thought for a while that there was no way I'd be getting back to the TARDIS, or to the ship in which it was parked, where Mickey and Rose waited for me. At least not without waiting three thousand years. For a brief evening, it looked as though Madame de Pompadour and I would have ample time to get to know each other... it was something we'd never been properly able to do because of the mind-probing robots.

MARTHA: Okay, someday, you're going to have to tell me the full story of the mind-probing robots.

DOCTOR: Duly noted. And alas, it seemed we were destined never to get to know one another because Reinette - that was her nickname - was exceedingly clever, and found a way for me to get back.

MARTHA: She worked it out?

DOCTOR: Yep. I mean, not with quantum mechanics, but she knew that the fireplace in her bedchamber was a portal, and she had had it moved from her childhood home... long story. Anyway, at that point, Reinette was thirty-seven, and had not been in a sexual relationship with the King for about a decade, and I knew this. It made me bold. It made me stupid.

MARTHA: You invited her aboard the TARDIS, didn't you? You used the fireplace to get back, and then asked her to come along.

DOCTOR: _(Looking down.) _Yeah.

MARTHA: _(Careful tone, not to scold or judge.) _A prominent figure in history, whose life-story is well-known, whose birth and death and goings-on have been well-documented upon the annals of history.

DOCTOR: Whose removal from that timestream could have changed the history of Earth, or at least of Europe, in drastic ways.

MARTHA: Wow. What would the Time Lords have done to you if they could have known?

DOCTOR: Prison. And psychoanalysis.

MARTHA: Oh, Doctor.

DOCTOR: But if you'll notice, the portals opened up over the course of her whole life, while they are confined to a single day on my end, which means... the passage of time on her end was totally unpredictable from my point of view. So I went and flipped some switches, and by the time I came back for her, she had died.

MARTHA: Oh, I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: Don't be. It was for the best. She was destined to die at forty-three, of tuberculosis, on Earth. And the loss made me wax philosophical, and made me realise what an idiot I had been. Not only had I been contemplating taking a major historical figure out of history, but I had... _(Chuckles, scratches awkwardly at the back of his head.)_

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: I had invited a beautiful woman whom I fancied, aboard the TARDIS, while Rose was travelling with me.

MARTHA: Ohhh, I see. Yeah. Wow.

DOCTOR: Is it wrong that I feel worse about that, than about the messing-with-history thing?

MARTHA: No, in fact I think it means there's hope for you.

DOCTOR: Well, that's it. I've never told that to anyone. The only person, besides me, who knew, was Reinette herself, and I don't think she fully understood the implications of it, though she knew I had Rose in my life. I never even told Rose herself - I reckoned she'd sulk for days, and she might have been right to do so.

MARTHA: Well, do you feel better?

DOCTOR: I do. I kind of didn't answer the question, though. It's not exactly an embarrassing moment... although if we assume embarrassing and shameful are roughly the same thing...

MARTHA: No, I get completely why this story falls into that category. Besides, in thinking about you and how you live, I can't really imagine you having a "traditional" embarrassing moment. Your embarrassing moments, where you had a pratfall or mistook the salt for the sugar...

DOCTOR: ...yeah, those end in disaster.

MARTHA: And are not exactly "embarrassing." _(Consults papers.) _When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

DOCTOR: Erm, today.

MARTHA: Yeah, me too. But before that.

DOCTOR: Well, I suppose that would be upon one of those occasions of which I have today told you the tale.

MARTHA: Alone or with someone else?

DOCTOR: With someone else... and then alone, after the hologram failed.

MARTHA: I see. Me, I cried on the Pentallian. Three times. Well, twice on the Pentallian, once in the jettison pod that was floating toward an angry sun.

DOCTOR: Ah yes, the jettison pod - with Mr. Riley Vashtee. Blimey, that's a cool name, eh? Riley Vashtee. So, that was the last time you cried in front of someone. What about alone?

MARTHA: Well, technically, the last time I cried in front of someone was with you, when I knew you were okay. We hugged and I just sobbed. I guess you didn't know.

DOCTOR: I suppose I'd forgotten.

MARTHA: I cried alone when I was blasting you with ice in that MRI-looking thing.

DOCTOR: You cried? Why?

MARTHA: Because! I pushed a button, and all of a sudden you're screaming in untold agony! But you kept telling me not to stop... it was so hard to keep going, Doctor!

DOCTOR: You know you saved my life by doing that, right?

MARTHA: I suppose in theory, but... you don't know what it was like. Think about having to hurt me, Doctor, to the point where I'm screaming bloody murder, the kind of screaming you know will haunt you in your sleep. All you'd have to do is stop. Just let go of the button, and it would make the pain go away, make the shrieking go away. But I'm telling you it's for the best, though you don't understand why or how, and all you want to do is pull away...

DOCTOR: Okay, I get it.

MARTHA: I didn't know what else to do, I so cried. It felt like the thing to do, considering the day I'd had. Not that it was an intellectual decision, mind you.

DOCTOR: I'm sorry to put you through that.

MARTHA: It's okay. It's what I'm here for, isn't it? Your life needed saving - who else could do it?

DOCTOR: Who else indeed. Who else would trust me enough to do it?

MARTHA: Exactly. _(Gesturing with finality.)_

DOCTOR: _(Smiles, and consults papers.) _Tell your partner something you think would be fun about being in a romantic relationship with them. _(Laughs.)_ Oh, this one is much more fun!

MARTHA: _(Groans.)_ No, this one is horrible! What would be fun about being in a relationship with you? Apart from everything? Erm, well... _(Gives a private chuckle.)_

DOCTOR: What? What is that chuckle?

MARTHA: Well, you are a very passionate man. And I will leave it at that.

DOCTOR: _(Crosses arms, and looks at her sceptically, and whimsically.)_ Well, funnily enough, I was going to say the same thing.

MARTHA: Really?

DOCTOR: Yep. Well, that you're passionate and also quite long in the stamina department...

MARTHA: Wow.

DOCTOR: Did I say that out loud?

MARTHA: You did.

DOCTOR: Well, fiddlesticks. _(With a smirk.)_

_(A moment passes in which the two of them stare at each other with wry smiles and sparks in their eyes.)_

MARTHA: _(At last, consulting the papers.) _What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

DOCTOR: _(Mood changes on a dime.) _Genocide.

MARTHA: Good answer.

DOCTOR: Humans sometimes say that tragedy, plus time, equals humour. Not true. I know about tragedy and I know about time. And it's no joke.

MARTHA: Tragedy and time. You're an expert.

DOCTOR: And unfortunately, I know about genocide, too. It's obviously barbaric and unnecessary, and all things bad. I'm not saying it's preventable, mind you, I'm just saying it's never funny.

MARTHA: That's how I feel about violence against children.

DOCTOR: Also a fantastic answer.

MARTHA: I don't even like it when people who I know, with one-hundred-per-cent conviction, are joking, say things like, "I'll slap you so hard, your grandchildren will hurt!"

DOCTOR: People say that to their kids?

MARTHA: Colourful, isn't it? I understand corporal punishment - that's one thing. People have their own theories on it, and... well, whatever. People can raise their kids the way they want. If it doesn't cross the line into abuse, then it's none of my business.

DOCTOR: Where's the line, though?

MARTHA: Exactly the problem - no-one knows. We just know, that we know it when we see it. _(Thinks for a moment.) _And to be perfectly honest, I even understand the impulses that lead to actual violence. I'm not excusing it, but I understand it. There are physiological explanations for it. What I don't understand is making light of it, joshing about someone small and helpless being made to suffer for the impulses of someone much larger, who ought to bloody know better. I suppose if you're a past victim, humour is sometimes the only thing that can keep you sane, but... _(Shudders.)_ I guess I've seen too many domestic "accidents" involving children in the ED, and too often watched them get sent home with the very people who hurt them.

DOCTOR: I tell you - it's in you. _(Smiles admiringly.)_ You just can't help being a healer.

MARTHA: _(Practically whispers.)_ Thanks.

DOCTOR: _(Consults papers.) _If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?

MARTHA: Well... _(Watching him out of the corner of her eye.)_ Until today, there were a number of things I would have liked to have said to you, but I feel like I have said most of them...

DOCTOR: Most?

MARTHA: Most.

DOCTOR: Why not all?

MARTHA: Certain things need to be said in due course. If that course never leads us to the place where those things are said, then, those things get left unsaid.

DOCTOR: _(Squints.)_ I understand. I think.

MARTHA: I'm just saying, sometimes important things are not unconditional. Criteria must be met.

DOCTOR: What criteria?

MARTHA: Sorry. Wouldn't be sporting.

DOCTOR: We've been so open with each other... I'm trying to imagine what you couldn't, at this stage, share with me. What don't I know?

MARTHA: _(Smiles indulgently.)_ Actually, nothing. There's nothing you don't know. But the most important words are still left to say, Doctor. They're just not quite ready to come out yet.

DOCTOR: Fine. In that case... well, we've already talked about a time when I wanted to say something to someone, and I blew my chance. I think this is the kind of revelation the experiment is looking to bring about.

MARTHA: Yes.

DOCTOR: But even bigger than that, I would regret not having made some attempt to communicate with my people before destroying the planet. I would have liked for them to see the situation from my point of view, to have let them know that I was sorry, and that I wasn't doing it out of hatred or fear. I didn't do it because, well, frankly, it didn't occur to me at the time. And even if it had, I wouldn't have really known how to go about it. The place was a shambles, in the throes of war... who would have heard me? Come to that, what would I have said? I probably would have lost my nerve if I had done that... _(Pause. Deep breath.) _Though, I suppose the objective of the question is to make you go ahead and say the things you wanted to say. But it doesn't appear that either of us can do that, so...

MARTHA: _(Consults papers.) _Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

DOCTOR: My stasis cube.

MARTHA: Beg pardon?

DOCTOR: My stasis cube, assuming I could find it. I think it's in the storage room in the Eighth Wing of the TARDIS. I'd probably make a safe dash to the inner reaches, then burn to death trying to actually locate the thing.

MARTHA: What is it?

DOCTOR: It's this glass cubey thing. It can hold entire worlds within it, outside of time, out of space...

MARTHA: ...so, in stasis...

DOCTOR: ...yes, until released. Depending on the state of the console, I might be able to pack the entire interior of the TARDIS inside the cube, halting the fire while I work out a way to extinguish it

MARTHA: Why haven't I ever seen this thing? Seems like it could come in quite handy.

DOCTOR: Well, really, I always thought they made the wielder capable of a bit too much power. If I let myself use it all the time, I'd start getting all lazy and god-like. Can't have that. But to save the universe's last living TARDIS from a fire? I would make an exception.

MARTHA: Okay, I would choose family albums. Along the lines of Shakespeare as a dinner guest and my desire to find love, it's a cliché answer, but there it is. Fortunately, Tish has the albums from when our gran was a child, but I have scrapbooks from our school days, from when Leo was born, memories of those trips to Brighton... sometimes, especially lately, I wonder if those memories will slip away someday. But I suppose they never can, as long as we have the photographs, yeah?

DOCTOR: You know, sometimes clichés are clichés for a reason. They're just extremely sensible, and a lot of people see it that way. I think saving family albums from a fire is eminently normal.

MARTHA: Normal is good, right?

DOCTOR: In this case, yes.

MARTHA: Oh, good.

DOCTOR: So..._(Consults papers.) _Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? Ugh, that's a horrible question!

MARTHA: But a probative one. As you may have guessed, the answer is my mother. I think the more complicated the relationship, the more of a dent it leaves in your life... or is that too simplistic a way of looking at it?

DOCTOR: No, I don't think it's simplistic at all.

MARTHA: It's just, I don't feel like there are "things to work out" with my brother or sister, or my dad, for that matter. But with my mum, ever since I was about fifteen, I guess I've had this sense that one day, far off in the future, like after I've had a great career, and all the children I'm going to have, and there are no more things that she can judge me harshly for, we would sit down and hash it out. Not in a screaming-and-clawing-at-each-other way, but we would just... talk. Listen. Explain. I would understand her better, and she would understand me. I know it's naïve to think there will ever come a day when all is as perfect as I'm predicting, but... having her gone, knowing that that day actually will never come... it would be beyond disturbing. It might actually destroy a little part of me.

DOCTOR: _(Melancholy.) _A little part of us always gets destroyed when someone we love dies, I reckon. And like you said, the more complicated that relationship, the bigger the part. The more jagged the hole it leaves.

MARTHA: Yes. Very well-said. Which means you have a planet-sized, jagged hole in your soul.

DOCTOR: It kind of does. For me, it's definitely not a fair question because literally every member of my family has died. I don't even have any third-cousins-once-removed left. And yeah, it's almost offensive that the question refers to the loss as "disturbing."

MARTHA: I reckon that whoever wrote these questions was not counting on someone like you as a test subject.

DOCTOR: No-one ever counts on someone like me. _(Smirk.)_

MARTHA: I know I didn't. _(Affectionate smile.)_

DOCTOR: Are you ready to ask the final question?

MARTHA: What? This is the last question?

DOCTOR: By my count, yeah.

MARTHA: _(Consults papers.)_ You're right! Number thirty-six. Wow, I'm not sure I want this little experiment to end.

DOCTOR: I know... it's weird.

MARTHA: Did you expect to feel that way? I mean, you're the one who knows the objective here.

DOCTOR: I did expect this, kind of.

MARTHA: All right - an auspicious occasion, the final question! Here it is: share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it.

DOCTOR: _(Lets out a quick exhale. Thinks for a few moments. Crosses his arms over his chest.)_ Okay. Tell you a personal problem. I shall do that by way of revealing to you the objective of the experiment.

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: _(Getting up from his chair.) _Trust me, it all goes hand-in-hand.

_(THE DOCTOR leaves the room for a moment, and when he returns, he has a laptop computer tucked under his arm. He opens it, types in a few choice things, then turns it around to face MARTHA.)_

DOCTOR: Read this.

MARTHA: Er... okay. UC Berkeley, February, 2015?

DOCTOR: I know. Time Lord, spoilers, et cetera. Just read.

MARTHA: "Around the time of the Summer of Love in 1967, Arthur Aron, then a UC Berkeley graduate student in psychology, kissed fellow student Elaine Spaulding in front of Dwinelle Hall. What they felt at that moment was so profound that they soon married and teamed up to investigate the mysteries of attraction and intimacy. 'I fell in love very intensely,' said Aron. 'Given that I was studying social psychology, just for fun I looked for the research on love, but there was almost none.' So he took it on. In the nearly 50 years that Arthur and Elaine Aron have studied love, they have developed three dozen questions to create closeness in a lab setting. Those thirty-six questions were recently popularized in a Modern Love column in the _'_New York Times_,' _and have broken down emotional barriers between thousands, resulting in romance and even some marriages. Examples of the questions include: 'Would you like to be famous? In what way?' 'Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?' 'If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?_'_" Oh, my God, Doctor, what have you done?

DOCTOR: Mm-hm. Skip to the part where it says, "Originally formulated."

MARTHA: _(Skims article.)_ Mm, okay. "Originally formulated for a 1997 study called 'The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness,' the thirty-six questions, or variations thereof, have been used in hundreds of studies. Whether this sense of closeness can last in a real-world setting is not guaranteed. While some connections that began in a lab endure, others run their course, just as in real life." _(MARTHA begins typing.)_

DOCTOR: What are you doing?

MARTHA: I'm looking for that Modern Love article. _(Pause.)_ Here we go. "New York Times," January, 2015. Blimey, it's weird living with you. "To fall in love with anyone, do this. The idea is that mutual vulnerability fosters closeness. One key pattern associated with the development of a close relationship among peers is sustained, escalating, reciprocal, personal self-disclosure. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable with another person can be exceedingly difficult, so this exercise forces the issue. Set one, number one: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest? Number two: would you like to be famous? In what way?" Oh, my God! All thirty-six questions are here!

DOCTOR: Yep.

MARTHA: These are questions designed to make the subjects fall in love?

DOCTOR: Yep.

MARTHA: You didn't think this was worth telling me?

DOCTOR: It's not a question of worth telling. It was a question of too much self-awareness. The placebo effect and all that.

MARTHA: But you said you already knew how I...

DOCTOR: ...I did.

MARTHA: So you just decided...

DOCTOR: ... to see if it would work on me.

MARTHA: And did it?

DOCTOR: _(Smiles, stares down.) _Well... I reckon I didn't have far to fall. I suppose perhaps I was wondering if your feelings would come to light. I wondered how honest you would be. It sounds manipulative, I know...

MARTHA: It's extremely manipulative.

DOCTOR: Maybe I just needed to hear some of it.

MARTHA: What, like, I find you sexy? I like the way you move?

DOCTOR: _(Shrugs.)_ Yeah. But there were things I needed an excuse to tell you, as well. I needed you to know how exactly damaged I am, and why. I wanted to tell you how much of an idiot I can be.

MARTHA: I see.

DOCTOR: I didn't look at the questions beforehand, I suppose I was just trusting that what needed to come out would come out. And I suppose, I knew that I'd learn more just to confirm what I already know about you. You're wonderful and loving, and... all that stuff I said before. Sorry, my ability to be eloquent is starting to get fatigued.

MARTHA: I see.

DOCTOR: But, I guess the most important revelation was that around halfway through, I realised I wouldn't have even begun this madness if I hadn't wanted it to work.

MARTHA: So, what, you just needed push?

DOCTOR: Maybe. Yeah.

MARTHA: And this is your personal problem?

DOCTOR: Yes. Because now I don't know what to do about it. I guess I hadn't thought that bit through.

MARTHA: Well, now, I don't know what to do about it either!

DOCTOR: Oh, good, you have a personal problem as well. Two birds. Well, since the final question is to share the problem and ask for advice, I'm going to give you advice. That thing you said you wanted to say to me, but were waiting for "criteria" to be met... go ahead and say it.

MARTHA: _(With worry all across her face.) _Are you sure it's safe?

DOCTOR: Yes, I'm sure.

MARTHA: Okay. Okay. _(Gathers up her courage, and her voice shakes.)_ I love you.

DOCTOR: _(Smiles.)_ See? Completely safe. Doesn't it...

MARTHA: Stop wasting time like last time, Doctor!

DOCTOR: All right, sorry! I love you too.

_(They stare at each other with complete fear for several moments.)_

MARTHA: Now what?

DOCTOR: I have no idea. It's your turn to give advice.

MARTHA: My advice is, from here on out, we stop trying to intellectualise our relationship, and just... have one.

DOCTOR: Lovely. Fancy a first date, then?

MARTHA: _(Laughs.)_ Sure! What should we do?

DOCTOR: Something that doesn't require talking.

MARTHA: Okay, and with that little revelation, I'll just go and put on a highly adaptable black dress with sandals, while I hyperventilate.

DOCTOR: Great. See you in an hour?

_(Finis.)_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'm actually a little surprised that no one seemed to realize what was going on! These 36 questions are completely real, Arthur Aron is a real social psychologist, and those articles from the Berkeley site and from the NYT are real (though I did edit them a whole lot, in order to suit my purposes for telling this story). The Aron experiment has been receiving a lot of press lately, most entertainingly on "The Big Bang Theory," during which Sheldon and Penny tried the experiment! They did not fall in love, however.**

**(Disclaimer: I did change ****one**** of the questions, but I won't tell you which.)**

**The first time I read about it, was in the 'Times' and the person who wrote the article was then married to the man with whom she had tried the experiment. Though, she did note, they already knew each other relatively well, had flirted a lot and just needed an "excuse" to fall properly in love. I guess I don't really need to tell you how the idea formed from there. ;-)**

**Anyway, thank you for staying with it, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed yourself! Try The Experiment with someone you fancy! Who knows what will happen!**

**One more thing: Please leave a review! :-D**


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